My Cat Geoffrey

My cat, Geoffrey
Such a grand name for a little cat
With onyx coat and amber eyes
And a demeanour somewhat displaced
From his humbler roots

His beckoning purr summons his serfs
And they do as he bids from his self-imposed throne
He lies like a Grecian God across the couch
With his bitch poised to be his queen
As and when he chooses, of course

For he is, Geoffrey Oliver, master of his universe
Ruler of this house; feline supreme; emperor extraordinaire
In an egocentric world
Where I am owned
His human – fetching, carrying, rallying

And then with tail held haughtily in the air
He takes his leave vacating this abode
Pouncing into the wild beyond the back door
Fearsome hunter; ferocious warrior; battle hardened commander
King of the garden jungle

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Cat’s Whiskers

Cat snoozes on bed
Enjoying purrfect life as
He’s the cat’s whiskers

  

Bird Bullies

A plucky sparrow comes and sits
Next to the cat – oh what a twit
It squawks and tweets a rowdy noise
That says come down all girls and boys
For this daft cat has lost his edge
He’s scared of me here in the hedge
So with a little push today
I reckon he’ll just run away
And blubber to his Mum and Dad
That birds are bullies – poor poor lad!
Then we’ll be free to peck away
To tweet and chirp throughout the day
Without the threat or chance that we’ll
End up instead as his main meal!

Cat

I swear you do it to annoy
To treat me like I am your toy
As you zigzag in front of me
With backward glance that says “he he”

Or when I’m lying on a bed
Come play with toes ‘til they bleed red
Believing they are prey for you
To tantalize out of the blue

Or even when you’ve not intent
To go outside, with no relent
You meow by the door to say
I need to smell the air today

Less if the laptop’s left on view
You think “hey great” with no thank you
And sit upon the keyboard till
All wwwwwwwwwwwwwwooooooooork is wrecked! That is your thrill!

But worst of all, and this is bad
You pull those eyes that say you’re sad
That plead such innocence in spite
Of thinking that you’re always right!

The Purrfect Retreat

They told me I was going to
A hotel just for cats
A vacation is what they said
A place I could relax
A haven for all felines
A retreat to paws awhile
To put my feet up; have a break
And go away in style!

But pffft! What do they know at all?
These humans – what big twits
They put me in this massive cage
And thought that with titbits
They’d buy me – my allegiance
Get me to drool and say
‘This place is really wonderful
What a great holiday!’

They thought I’d be contented with
The food they’d post through hatch
But I was really not impressed
For odouring my patch
Were several other felines
“Some friends for you” they said
“Get real!” I thought and turned my back
And headed into bed

And there I stayed and slept until
My human did return
At last I thought with cunning wit
Now is your time to learn
Just what it’s like! What I’ve been through
In this your cat hotel!
For to my mind it had just been
A prison right from hell!

And so when we returned back home
I put my tail in air
And walked away from them at once
As though they were not there
And did not give in to their bribes
To let them cuddle me
But gave them warning with a spit
And headed up the tree

I sat there for a while and thought
You think you’re really smart
But I’m a cat; a god some say
Good lord where is your heart?
For you can’t lock me up like that
And think that all is fine!
For I have standards and have views
And won’t stand in your line!

For if I had the power I’m owed
I’d send my humans to
That purrfect retreat like they did
And see what they would do!
I put them in a kennel
And lock them right away
And see if they would think the same!
For it’s no holiday!

A reflection on what might have been going on in my cat’s head the last few days but not reflection on the lovely cattery he stayed in!

Predator

He curls up there
In a bundle of adorable black fluff
Dreaming of what? We cannot know
Until suddenly! Without warning!
He pounces!
And toes become his prey!

The Tailor’s Cat

I’ve heard it mentioned long ago
That once there was a cat
Who left for London, boots in tow
And flippy floppy hat
But on his journey south he stopped
In Cambridge by the Cam
And dosed off in the mid-day sun
On punt after a dram
Of whiskey in the afternoon
To dream under a spell
Of princesses and royalty
As well as wedding bells

He dreamt he was the master of
All glistening ceremonies
With folk from far and wide coming
To bow down on their knees
In adoration of the clothes
He sewed; the robes he spun
The glorious dresses he had made
For hearts and love in one
The swathes of cloth luxurious
The silk so fine and fair
For maidens on their wedding days
With radiance in the air

He dreamt of smiles and happy times
Of beauty so serene
Of wonder, charm, perfection in
The dresses that were seen
And when he woke he tallied out
To streets in Cambridge town
Where there he set a boutique up
To sew fabulous gowns
And from the day he’s dressed all those
Who’ve crossed his threshold mat
With grace and style and elegance
He is the Tailor’s Cat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NB:  This poem is not sponsored or endorsed by The Tailor’s Cat boutique in Cambridge which supplies beautiful wedding dresses.  The dress in the picture does not come from The Tailor’s Cat but is for illustration purposes only. 🙂

Watch Out

He thinks he is a tiger
Or maybe a wild lion
Stalking across the prairie by
The power of Orion
With claws as sharp as pincers
And teeth honed to devour
The flesh of those he pounces on
Dare they stand still or cower
With eyes slit green with envy
And stealth his weapon too
Watch out the cat who sleeps and dreams
For he might jump on you!

Jock VI

They say the cat will always get
The cream throughout his life
Will always land right on his feet
Deterring stress and strife
But what a strike of luck for one
Dear puss at Old Chartwell
Adopted and called Jock the sixth
As cat now rings the bell
In Churchill’s former hall and home
The place he loved the best
And now the place where this dear cat
Complete with bright white vest
And four white mitts to complement
His marmalade attire
Will spend his days, above the stairs
Until he might retire!

If you’d like to know more about Jock VI please visit the National Trust link here.  With thanks to the National Trust and @Iain Carter for use of the photograph below reproduced with their kind permission.

Jock VI exploring his new home at Chartwell, Kent © Iain Carter

The Cat’s Whiskers

You think you are a ‘Big I Am’
A Lone Ranger, a king
A self sufficient kind of man
Top Cat and amazing

You walk so proud with head held high
A warrior in control
The Lord and owner of your patch
The Barren of your soul

But I know different for within
An alter ego lies
A chin tickling and softer heart
Compliant kind of guy

For pet you just behind the ears
In cat celestial dream
And you succumb to ball of fluff
Feline whose has the cream