the way I heard it, Satisfaction brought that cat back to life, but this is real good

 

To A Siamese Cat written by Michael Joseph, published in 1930

I shall walk in the sun above,

 whose golden light you loved.

 I shall sleep alone

 and, stirring, touch an empty place.

 I shall write uninterrupted.

( Would that your gentle paw could stir my moving pen just once again.)

 I shall see beauty,

 but none to match your living grace.

 I shall hear music,

 but none so sweet as the droning song

 with which you loved me.

 I shall fill my days,

 but I shall not, can not, forget.

 Sleep soft dear friend,

 for while I live you shall not die.

Michael Joseph

Pieces of String

The kitten and I and a piece of string
Are proving that sport is a simple thing,
A matter of guessing which way to run,
A chance that is lost or a chance that is won:
A jerk, and the string is mine, and then
A pounce, and the kitten has it again;
Were it not for wit, I could not be
The match of a cat's muscularity.
If I grow weary of play and drop
My end, the kitten will quickly stop
His antics; for string is merely string,
Though it seemed so like a living thing.
The kitten may curl himself in sleep,
While I sit still with the thoughts I keep
Of many strings that are quiet now,
And many more I must seize somehow.

KEITH THOMAS.

Prayer For Susie

Because she was of woman's kind
She paid the price.
So very sweet and gentle
No vice but mice.
Because each Tom thought Sue an angel
Was to her no fault
The wrong was done
When someone had the Pound Man
Make her into one!

GENE WOODBURN.

Pussy wants a corner

I've begged so long from door to door,
I guess I haven't any pride,
 But it's so hard to forage any more
With such an empty place inside.
I wouldn't mind at all, you see,
 About the garbage cans and such
 Places where I eat, it isn't only me,
 It's for the children that I care so much.
 But you were generous, that was a lovely meal;
 I feel genteel again. You were so nice
With bits of meat and milk, I feel
I can repay, your house is over-run with mice
So please, kind lady, you could use a cat
Who won't be any earthly bother,
And six little kittens, sweet and fat,
Deserted by a roving father.


 RUTH STEWART SCHENLEY.

Frightened kittens

The world is a fishbowl.
To dabble soft paws in,
And life is a tree trunk,
To sharpen small claws in.
 All corners are mouse holes,
 Intriguing with mystery.
 These concepts are part of
 Each wee kitten's history.
But alas, the sad wonder.
 When real life discloses
 That bugs often bite
Pink, inquisitive 'noses.
 And oh, the despair
Upon small furry faces,
 To find themselves stranded
 In high, stairless places!

ESTHER BALDWIN'YORK.