Sheila Charles WHO IS THE BOSS ROUND HERE?
Years ago, I’m in Cornwall exploring remains when I was overcome by the heat.
Not only that, I needed a rest and to take the weight off my feet.
I sat there among the ruins. If only I had known –
I didn’t but a lady informed me – I was sitting on the sacrificial stone!
I was reminded of this, years later,
When I headed for an occupied chair.
The lady of the house informed me,
“Misty always sits there.”
I had assumed, quite wrongly,
That I took precedence over HER.
But, not so. I sat somewhere else.
Did I hear a self-satisfied purr?
The cat later got down of her own accord
And slowly walked away
Giving me a disdainful look.
I bet that made her day.
I came to realize, after a while,
(I’m a slow learner, I know,)
The cat people treat cats like people.
I feel certain this is so.
I remember the names of people’s cats now.
I ask after them when I go round.
I even stroke them, if they’ll allow it.
This endears me to friends, I’ve found.
My new next-door neighbour has a cat
Yet it lives in MY garden. Yes.
It uses MY lawn as its toilet
So I have to deal with the mess!
I’ve been tempted, on occasion,
To go to her and have a few wards
As not only does it pooh in my garden
But it also frightens MY birds.
Well, if you can’t beat them, join them.
As I am now living alone
I’ve decided to become a ‘cat person,’
And get one of my own!
illustration by ume-nori
