Dancing with Cats 1

by suecartledge

 

Statue of lion

This is my latest poem, or rather, poems, as  they are a trilogy, the Dancing with Cats trilogy. Here is Part1:

Dancing with Cats 1

Dancing with cats is not an easy

manoeuvre, when you consider

the disparity in height between cats

and humans. Even a Maine Coon or

Russian Blue is considerably

shorter than me, and I’m only one

Hundred and sixty centimetres

(five foot two) tall, or rather, short. Yet

I’d like to dance with a handsome Tom,

formal in black and white tuxedo.

Once on the dance floor with my partner,

what music would we hear? What dance would

We do? I fancy a tango. Could

he prefer a polka? A barn dance?

Maybe Tom is not a sophisticat-

ed feline after all. What about

that tall Russian with his long arty

hair and piercing blue eyes? He looks up

For it. A swing around the floor and

out the door to where his sleigh awaits.

Ah, but Missy Kitty is looking

my way. She’s dainty, and she’s pretty

pissed off. Looks like she needs attention,

bit of canoodling in slow waltz time?

Here’s Butch Cattidy, raffish ginger,

one eye half-closed, one ear bent; (she won

that fight). Now she bows sardonically

to me. Care for a spin round the floor?

Missy Kitty looks like spitting. I

Decline Butch’s offer. Safety first.

Now, what I’ve learned is: it’s not about

how tall your partner is or how good-

looking, or even how well they move,

that gives pleasure in life’s dance. Person-

ality, propinquity, affect-

ion count, but aren’t the whole deal. Love is.

So here’s a thought: perhaps cats prefer

dancing with each other, not people.

May be time for me to find someone

of the human, not the feline, kind.

© S Cartledge 2016
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