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Pets and People

Do cats and kittens ever wonder
Why their owners have no fur?
Do dogs think it was blind fate’s blunder
That the likes of humans were
Afflicted with this vile condition,
Curse of their unique position
On this crazy planet earth?

Or do all furred ones, rather, think:
Those humans are so cool, so fine  
And surely I am on the blink.                           
For furlessness, oh how I pine!    
I wish those humans could not see
Poor old, pathetic, hairy me!—
Betide with woe, bereft of mirth?

No, no, we value pets because
They’re sensible. They’d all go far,
Respecting all of Nature’s laws,
To keep things just the way they are.
Their fur’s okay by them. And should
They sometimes fix a gaze on you
That hints, I’ll tell the neighborhood
What you look like, don’t worry: few—
No, none—deplore your skin (or height, or girth).

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Nichol McPickle 

Here follows the tale of an ambitious lad.
His misfortune struck swiftly, and oh, was it bad!

Nichol McPickle, that Nichol McPickle,
to tickle his taste buds was his only aim.
He made his way down to McElsey’s ice cream shop;
his quest, said his neighbors, was always the same.

Nichol McPickle, dear Nichol McPickle,
his taste was not fickle; he knew every time
what flavor he’d order: not chocolate, nor cherry,
nor fresh boysenberry, nor sherbet of lime.

Nichol McPickle, brave Nichol McPickle,
His choice had to be butter brickle, you see.
His order: four scoops stacked up high in a sugar
cone. No finer treat could there possibly be.

Nichol McPickle, what, Nichol McPickle?
By habit he’d always begin with a lick—he’ll
explain this someday—on the bottommost scoop;
not thinking how soon his ice cream would be soup.

Nichol McPickle, oh Nichol McPickle!
Outside in the sun’s searing heat the boy felt his skin prickle.
Sweat poured from his brow, and his pleasure was doomed to be drowned in
a matter of moments—alas, for his four–story mountain!

Nichol McPickle, poor Nichol McPickle,
his ice cream, now glist’ning, had already formed a conspicuous trickle
down over his fingernails, knuckles, along past his wrist, down his arm;
and meanwhile that great tower was leaning and causing him major alarm.

Nichol McPickle, sad Nichol McPickle!—
his arm was now slathered in gradually clabbering warm dairy goo. Wow! How thick’ll
it get? Nichol wondered, his front all bespattered. And then came the finishing blow:
there remained on his cone but one scoop; the three others fell splat! on the pavement below.

Reflect, then, on Nichol’s regrettable plight:
your ice cream cones in summer you’d best eat at night.

.

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Julian D. Woodruff, who contributes poetry frequently to the Society of Classical Poets, writes poetry and short fiction for children and adults. He recently finished 2020-2021, a poetry collection. A selection of his work can be read at Parody Poetry, Lighten Up Online, Carmina Magazine, and Reedsy.

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The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary.


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20 Responses

  2. Brian Yapko

    Both quite fun, Julian. My experiences with my own dog suggest that she does not envy us humans at all. I think she pities our weak sense of smell and peculiar unwillingness to chase after rabbits and squirrels. And I’m grateful that she doesn’t care if I’ve packed on an extra pound or two.

    Your Nichol McPickle is a fun bundle of “ickle” rhymes and energy. It reads a bit like a song lyric. Did you intend to set it to music? The final stanzas grow in line length parallel to the Nichol’s leaning tower of ice cream such that the penultimate stanza’s lengthy lines give the appearance of losing control. It’s a quite clever use of form.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Thanks, Brian
      Interesting, your comment about music. I hadn’t thought to set it to music, but its inspiration is musical: a musical phrase may be repeated in augmentation (usually half the speed)–examples abound; canons in music usually mean one line doubled in counterpoint against itself, the “canon” may require a far more complex relationship (several Renaissance composers, Bach, and Webern are prominent cases in point); here I was thinking of such rules, and also the stunning expansion at the end of Stravinsky’s Apollo. So while the effect here is all silliness, the means were serious and consistently applied.

      Reply
  3. Sally Cook

    Dear Julian —
    My parents cat Tommy is a dead ringer to the illustration of your delightful poem on the thinking cat. He was only an old giant tabby, but he could count, proof of which being that when we stayed over before returnin to the city, round about five AM, the correct number of recently deceased breafast moles would appear, paws neatly crossed, lined up on the cellar door.
    We tested him, sometimes invititng others; he always came up with the correct number. What I want to know is — was there a younger, more agile cat about doing the counting and laying out of moles? any ideas?
    I like the way you think.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Thank you, Sally. I’m not going to contend that animals, even some, are smarter than people. But I wanted to point out that on the whole they seem much more able just to “live their lives,” as Walker Percy puts it in one of his novels. I’ve been wondering lately if life used to be more exacting than it is for many of us today, and so there simply wasn’t the leisure and ennui that may be at the heart of so much of the absurdity we see about us today.

      Reply
  4. Becky Fitch

    Loved both of these, Julian. Right up my poetry street! My humour veers on the ridiculous side so keep them coming. I haven’t written one like these for a while and they’ve got my fingers itchy so many thanks!

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Thanks for the encouragement, Becky. Every once in a while I try to sell someone on one or another of my “ragged individualists.”

      Reply
  5. Margaret Coats

    Two most enjoyable poems, Julian. While they are categorized as possible entertainment for children, we who are older can appreciate, as well, your masterful technique in meter and rhyme, and the fit of each topic to a uniquely suitable lyric form. The humor of “Nichol McPickle” not only melts into overflowing metric feet, but lasts even into the moral of the story. The obvious means of fully satisfying a taste for ice cream is not to eat it at night, but to order a cup (or more than one) instead of a cone! But that would involve sacrificing cone sugar . . . I’m sure, however, you got things right in “Pets and People.” Your rhyme-linked stanzas explore possible thoughts, then declare the companionable opinion of our fellow creatures in a stanza with two added lines (that final extra line being extended to put a firm paw down) at the end of the poem. I hope your Boots has recovered enough of his fur since the shave last spring, to happily shed what he doesn’t need for this warmer season!

    Reply
    • Jack DesBois

      Margaret, I remember (back when I ate ice cream) ordering a cone AND a cup, the cone perched precariously on top of my mass of mocha chip like a rhinoceros’s horn. The best of both worlds.

      Julian, I especially enjoyed your musings on the thoughts of our fur-clad friends. I’ve often had similar wonderings. I would often wonder in the heat of summer that my dog Gracie would make such a sacrifice of comfort for her sleek, stylish black coat. This behavior struck me as just a tad vain. Then again, the massive clumps of underfur strewn about the house in summer (which we still occasionally uncover seven years after her death) were proof that she really did know how to dress sensibly for the season.

      Reply
      • Julian D, Woodruff

        Thanks for your post, Jack. I’ve got quite a pile of poems about animals now, a selection of which I gathered in a little book for my grandkids. Shedding, fur balls, culinary taste, and more! Our cat Boots, who stars in several, is also the subject of ten or so prose adventures.

    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Your reaction to Nichol makes me smile, Margaret. The poem was inspired in part by the memory of one of my cousins, who when we were kids liked to attack ice cream cones from the bottom of the cone. Even with a single scoop, the result was sometimes a Nicholian disaster. I’m glad, too, for your corroborating opinion on the extra “paw” in the final line of “Pets.”
      Boots, you may want to know, was back at the vet today for more blood work. Results tomorrow. At least he’s starting to look more himself.

      Reply
  6. Norma Pain

    I love these two poems Julian, especially Nichol McPickle which was so much fun to read and will be printed off to read to my grandchildren. Thank you.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Thank you so much, Norma. I really value a compliment from you.
      I loved yours, too. I’ll post more about them when I can next get to the internet on my desktop!

      Reply
  7. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Julian, what a dynamic rhythmic, rhyming, and rapturous duo! A much-needed poetic tonic in these dismal days.

    ‘Pets and People’ had me smiling. I think our pets have a much healthier view of the world and your closing line has my furless face gazing into my cat George Lionel’s eyes in awe. When I first arrived in Texas, I pondered the fur dilemma… how on earth could dogs and cats survive the brutal Texas summer, especially excessively furry ones meant for colder climes?

    I love the fast-paced humor of ‘Nichol McPickle’ – the title had me grinning before I read the poem. The musicality of this McPickle masterpiece is perfect for the humorous message. Great stuff! Thank you!

    Reply
  8. Julian D. Woodruff

    I’m pleased as can be these appealed to you, Susan. It seems that when I try to address our foibles (e.g., vanity, gluttony) in sober, probing lines the result is usually deadly, so I’m glad avenues like comic bemusement and outright silliness remain open to me.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Julian, I’m a huge fan of comic bemusement and outright silliness and have loved basking in your wonderfully woven whimsy. I’m hoping the lighthearted Muse of all things smiley will grab me by the writing hand soon… I’m getting far too serious for my own good. I long to go the furball not foible route. 🙂

      Reply
  9. C.B. Anderson

    I think I liked your first poem a bit more than I liked T.S. Eliot’s cat poem. But have you ever seen one of those hairless cats? Not a pretty sight.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Thanks, C.B. You’re right about furless cats. Good thing most are adequately endowed.
      My wife’s not much on Practical Cats either. (I don’t remember it well enough to comment, beyond saying I’m sorry it was reborn as that musical.)

      Reply
  10. Alena Casey

    “Pets and People” is delightful to read aloud! Good use of rhyme scheme and word choice to make it bounce off the tongue.

    Reply

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