"Cat Stalking a Butterfly" by John Woodhouse AudubonCat Poems by Gigi Ryan The Society May 18, 2025 Beauty, Culture, Humor, Poetry 1 Comment . Sally November rains brought to our basement door From the woods some pleading, needy eyes Staring from a fur mass, soaking wet. Our catless home (about to be no more) Welcomed her and tended to her cries. By Providence we had ourselves a pet. I don’t recall why Sally was her name. It seemed to suit her. She could do no harm For the poor thing had none of her claws. No wonder she was starving. Who could blame Her for putting on her feline charm. We fell for her. Her tiny gentle paws Moved daintily around our home by day. By night she curled up at my feet and slept. Our children came along; she was their friend. We couldn’t know her age; she was a stray. We never did feel sorry that we kept The cat until her stoic bitter end. She sat upon the arm of my son’s chair And kept him company while he did math. They didn’t speak a word but understood Each other so it seemed. He was not spared The price of love when our dear Sally passed— The grave he dug returned her to the woods. . . Bob Discovered on the highway by my son Who couldn’t keep them as he was in school The little kittens soon became our own. We nurtured them until they were full grown. However cats born wild have their own rules And two took off and we had only one. Now Bob was wise and stuck around our farm He made peace with our dog and killed the mice. He even brought to my back door a rat. I know it was a gift of love. A cat Does not about indecency think twice (Or once!) He did not mean to cause alarm. One winter it was colder than the norm. Though his coat was thick my pity rose. He ignored the house I made for him And one day I just simply let him in. He is a good farm cat, I feel I owe Him wintertime that’s cozy, snug, and warm. . . The 5 AM Finale My pussycat typhoonies (Before their all day snoozies) Get early morning zoomies And chase around the roomies Imaginary goonies. They pass out rather woozy As if they have been boozy. My feline fluffy floofies Are neither lush nor loonie, But keep me from the gloomies, The moodies, and the broodies. . . Gigi Ryan is a wife, mother, grandmother, and home educator. She lives in rural Tennessee. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. ***Read Our Comments Policy Here*** One Response Roy Eugene Peterson May 18, 2025 Gigi, I enjoyed your cat poems immensely, although their short lifespan saddens us. You encouraged me to possibly attempt to publish some of my own poems about cats including one about a Chinchilla Persian that I purchased in a pet market near Red Square in Moscow. I can see how much you loved and cared for the strays that came to your farm. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Roy Eugene Peterson May 18, 2025 Gigi, I enjoyed your cat poems immensely, although their short lifespan saddens us. You encouraged me to possibly attempt to publish some of my own poems about cats including one about a Chinchilla Persian that I purchased in a pet market near Red Square in Moscow. I can see how much you loved and cared for the strays that came to your farm. Reply