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Catlife
By
Elizabeth Maua Taylor
I took up three lives
Just living with Sharynne.
She's a manic-depressive,
Yet emotionally barren.
She was never on time
For all our appointments,
And was skimpy with din-din
As well as affection.
She gave me to Bob,
Who's a little bit better.
At least every day
He would clean out my litter,
But he owned a dog;
A runt pug named Bogey.
We fought like -- well, you know --
So ended THAT story.
Bob gave me to Granny
After much persuasion.
She had four other cats,
Much to my consternation.
But her lap was real wide
And I'd sit there all day.
She got sick and she died --
I was given away.
I then lived with Jenna,
A ten-year-old girl,
Whose mommy and daddy
Were simply not there.
She was fragile and beautiful,
She and I became close.
Mom and Dad didn't like me,
A liability with claws.
They threatened to take me
To the animal shelter,
Unless Jenna could find
Another cat owner.
She actually did,
To my joy and my sorrow;
Goodbye, my sweet Jenna,
May God bless your tomorrows.
The Johnson's were next.
They had five little children
Who hugged me and tugged me
And tossed me amongst them.
They dressed me in baby clothes,
They fed me cream cheese,
I grew lazy and fat
And complacent with ease.
They gave me to an artist,
An avant-garde painter.
Who dyed her hair orange
And my fur magenta
As an exhibit. I itched.
I hated the color.
I developed skin problems --
-- And quickly lost favor.
She started to sneeze,
She had hives and a fever.
Turned out she's allergic,
So I had to leave her
For another new owner.
Egads! I am weary
Of trying to find
An owner who'll keep me!
But now in my old age,
I no longer lament
The lack of an owner;
I'm simply content.
She's older, she's wiser,
She's gotten more caring.
I have now come full circle,
I'm back living with Sharynne.
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