Lily is our 18 year old cat (which is pretty dang old for a cat). While she won’t live forever, we think there’s still a chance she might outlive all of us 😸
Most, if not all, of my books have cat poems. My future book, Above the Rain will be no exception, and will include “The Cat’s Meow,” which I wrote for Lily. It’s not an epic (which I would never write), but it is a sonnet (so just as classic). Above all, it’s a tribute to a cat who has gotten spunkier with age and doesn’t care who knows it!
The Cat’s Meow
for Lily, with affection
The feasting beast with lingual flicks
licks a plate of whitefish in cream
sauce. Lily’s the boss and gets her kicks
by bending ears with mournful screams
‘til someone caves and serves hors d’oeuvres
on a China plate. How does she rate?
When not gorging on gorgeous cutlets,
she cozy dozes on faux fur
heated blankets and sleeps so deep
in a heap she piddles a little. Peeps
might say, “Are you kiddin’ me?
Why put up with that prima donna?”
Believe you me, if her kidneys
weren’t failing, we wouldn’t wanna.
A Wandering Minstrel 