O Where Are You Going?
(W.H. Pawden)
Copyright Sarah Hartwell (with apologies to WH Auden)

"O where are you going?" said purrer to paw-er,
"That cat-box is covered and where kittens learn,
Yonder's the litter which tickles the sitter,
That tray is the pan where the poopies return."

"O do you imagine," said fearball to furball,
"That dinner delays while you play in the grass,
Will purrsistent looking discover the lacking
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?"

"O what was that noise," said quitter to spitter,
"Was it cat flu or worse that you caught from that sneeze?
Behind you swiftly the beast's claws come softly,
Your bare patch of fur is the ringworm disease."

"Into my cat-tray" said paw-er to purrer,
"Dinner can wait" said furball to fearball,
"It's you looking ill" said spitter to quitter,
As he left them there, as he left them there.

Feral Cats (I Wandered Lonely as a Stray)
By William Wordsworth's Stray
Copyright 2007, Sarah Hartwell (with apologies to William Wordsworth)

I wandered lonely as a stray
That haunts the night in quiet stealth,
And hides in hedges by the day,
From humans who would harm my health;
Beside the bins, beneath the stair,
I'm the feral shadow lurking there.

Precarious the life I eke,
The unseen raider of your scraps,
While owners rub the silken cheek,
Of pampered cats upon their laps,
While idle felines doze and thrive,
I am more vital, more alive.

The one who rhymes of flowers bright
That dance uncaring in the breeze,
If he would gaze into the night,
Might write of feral cats like me -
And how I dance bright-eyed and sing,
And woo the lady-cats in spring!

Who cares for golden daffodils?
They are no good to such as I,
A good plump mouse my belly fills,
And oestrus queans will catch my eye -
My feral heart with pleasure fills,
For cats care not for daffodils!

The Time Has Come, The Persian Said
2010, Sarah Hartwell

The Persian and the Siamese
Came walking through the door
They frisked upon the furniture
And rolled upon the floor
If only every cat had this,
They waved a velvet paw.

"The time has come," the Persian said,
"To talk of many things:
Of birds, and mice, and ping-pong balls -
Of litter-trays, and strings,
And why the hob is boiling hot,
And whether cats have wings."

"Cats with wings," the Persian said,
"Such things you may have heard,
They'd swoop on the unwary mouse,
They'd chase the flying bird."
Inscrutable, the Siamese,
Just closed his eyes and purred.

The Siamese thought for a while,
And sat in calm repose,
"Cats with wings, ridiculous!"
And then began to dose,
The Persian fluffed out all his fur
And cuffed him on the nose.

"Yes cats with wings," the Persian quoth,
"Have several times been bred,"
The Siamese retorted then,
"My friend - your wits have fled!"
The Persian fluffed his fur again
And cuffed him on the head.

"Feathered wings or furry wings?"
Then asked the Siamese,
"And do the cats sleep on the hearth,
Or do they roost in trees?
And must they flap or can they glide
Like kites upon the breeze?"

The Persian and the Siamese,
At this exchange of views,
Rested upon the sunny floor,
The better there to muse,
But no conclusion could they reach,
Before they were a-snooze!

Our Favourite Things (Cat Fancier Style)
2008, Sarah Hartwell

Rosettes on cages and ribbons on kittens
Snowshoes and Birmans and others with mittens
Pedigree pussies, the glamour they bring,
These are a few of our favorite things.

Cream coloured tabbies or Foreigns that yodel,
Rexs and Laperms with fur curled like poodles
Maine Coons all mellow, Siameses that "sing"
These are a few of our favorite things.

Abys in ticking and Bengals all spotty,
A few naughty torties to drive judges potty,
Silver chinchillas with kohl black eye-rims,
These are a few of our favorite things,

All the old breeds, all the new ones,
When you're feeling sad,
Just simply remember your favorite things,
And then you won't feel so bad.

(If I included every breed by name of description the song would be endless, so feel free to substitute your breed)