"The Cat's Lunch" by Marguerite Gérard‘Ode to George Lionel, the Cat’ by Jeff Eardley The Society June 18, 2021 Humor, Limerick, Poetry 23 Comments . It was only a two stone cat, Now what do you think about that? If it sat on your lap, Both your femurs would snap. It was twenty-eight pounds of pure fat. Its owners would feed it on fish, Which they placed every day in its dish. Where it scoffed up the lot, And then sat on its spot, “Can I have some more food please,” it hissed. It gave them those big droopy eyes, Which caused both its owners to sigh. So, they headed on down, To the Petco in town, And came back with a stack of cow pies. And so, every day about three, They gave him a pie for his tea. It worked for a while, As they started to smile, They thought they had cured him you see. But the cat’s hunger pangs wouldn’t cease, Its owners denied any peace. He weighed ninety-two pounds, When the Vet called around, And informed them their cat was obese. He said, “I’d best look after him,” So, he took him along to the gym. Where he sharpened his claws, On the parallel bars, In a couple of weeks, he was slim. So, if you’ve a cat, then beware, When feeding it, take extra care, Or for certain you’ll get, Deep in debt with the Vet, And I’m sure you don’t want to go there. . . Jeff Eardley lives in the heart of England near to the Peak District National Park and is a local musician playing guitar, mandolin and piano steeped in the music of America, including the likes of Ry Cooder, Paul Simon, and particularly Hank Williams. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 23 Responses Mike Bryant June 18, 2021 Jeff, I just fed our newly svelte George. As he enjoyed his turkey with gravy, I read your amazing tribute to George’s rehabilitation aloud to him. I’m sure that his purring was louder than usual, and now I have to see if I can hunt down some cow pies. Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Mike, a word of caution. Slivers of horn from the Cow pie may lodge in his lower intestine, resulting in a trip to the vet and an expensive Catscan. You have been warned. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant June 18, 2021 George Lionel is easy like Sunday morning after dancing on the ceiling all night long. He’s read your poem and asked for a set of purrallel bars – truly! He knows he’s once, twice, three times the kitty he was. Jeff – thank you for the Friday giggle. This fun poem has the Mike, Susan & George Lionel seal of approval Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 A cat may have four or five claws, Sitting there at the end of his paws. But I found out this Summer, The use of the comma’s A pause at the end of a clause. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant June 18, 2021 Mr. Eardley, when it comes to humour – you are the cat’s whiskers, pyjamas and meow all rolled into one! Paul Freeman June 18, 2021 It seems that your cat had good luck – stroking out he has given a duck. Now his skin isn’t tight, for surmounting his plight, he could do with a good ….. nip and tuck. Thanks for the read, Jeff. And, er, I wouldn’t read this one to George Lionel, Mike. Reply Mike Bryant June 18, 2021 True, George thinks he’s beautiful as is. Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Thanks for your comment young Paul. Your verse never fails to enthrall. The rhymes you devise, Are like warm apple pies. Rather sweet, but not sickly at all. Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Thanks Paul, comment is below. Reply David Watt June 18, 2021 Jeff, I read your jaunty anapestic cat tale with much enjoyment. I’m glad to hear that George Lionel is back to his slinky old self. Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Thanks David. I’m sure he won’t retain his slinkiness when Mike starts feeding him Cow pies. Reply Sally Cook June 18, 2021 Warning: In my neck of the woods, a cow pie is something the cow leaves behind that you wish you hadn’t stepped in ! DO NOT – NEVER – OFFER A CAT A COW PIE !! Unthinkable. Reply Mike Bryant June 18, 2021 Sally… you just saved George from a disgusting culinary experience. I wonder if it could have left him catatonic. Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Sally, the Cow Pie was the favourite meal of UK cartoon character Desperate Dan, so tough his pillow was filled with rubble and he shaved with a blowtorch. Over here, your cow pie is known as a cow pat, many of which I have stepped into. Reply Norma Okun June 18, 2021 Love the poem about the fat cat. I have one that cost a lot to take to the vet. She loves her food and will not go back to the vet. She will start going to the gym and will become slim. Thank you for a delightful poem. Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Norma, thanks for the kind words with hope that yours will soon be Catapulted to celebrity to join George Lionel on the Catwalk Reply Sally Cook June 18, 2021 To all cat lovers: George looks to be the sort of cat That never steps in a cow pat. .If by mistake he were to make A close encounter by mistake, I recommend four overshoes, cat size. My New York cat would use These little aids – when being aired – From further problems he was spared, From dirty sidewalks, spared was he — Avoiding all cat-astrophe ! PS – But when we left Manhattan, our cat, who had never before seen grass, was terrified, and i had to get down on hands and knees and crawl throuigh it, uttering soothing sounds of “nice grass. Good grass ! See? Reply Jeff Eardley June 18, 2021 Sally, another great poem for George. I hope he appreciates all the hard work involved. I will bet that there was grass, and cow pats in Manhattan when the Dutch flogged it off to we English for peanuts. Reply Sally Cook June 18, 2021 Things were better then for cats And skunks and mongeese, even rats. And dare I say us human folk? Believe me, this is not a joke! My cat soon toughened up. He was A creature clad in spot and fuzz .He ruled all creatures on our street For nineteen years. He was a sweet And grey-tailed being who could sing — The cat-alyst in everything. Cynthia Erlandson June 18, 2021 Delightfully humorous! I’m so glad that this group of serious poets doesn’t take itself so seriously as to frown on a merry series of limericks (and lots of fun and amusing responses)! Reply Jeff Eardley June 19, 2021 Cynthia, thank you. We English can no longer take ourselves seriously, particularly with Boris in charge and the inability to trounce Scotland at football (or soccer as you may know it) Best wishes to you and yours. Reply Margaret Coats June 20, 2021 Renowned Madame Deshoulieres, Whose Christian name was Antoinette, Wrote verses for her cat, Grisette. To Jeff she might say, “What a rare Amusing ode burlesque to set Before the Bryants with great flair!” Reply Jeff Eardley June 20, 2021 Thank you Margaret, any comment from you is always a treasure of information. George is a very lucky cat indeed. Thank you. Reply Leave a Reply to Mike Bryant Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.