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A Feline Fable

Old grandmother cow I think her name was Bessy.
Would often scold the kitty cats for leaving everything so messy.
She’d make sure they drank their milk and checked the barn for mice.
 “Do things right the first time around, you won’t have to do them twice.”

“She’s old.” said the Tabby Cat, “Annoying.” cried the Devon.
“We’re almost grown.” moaned the Bobtail “I am nearly seven.”
“I hate answering her questions who, what where, and when?”. 
“She asks them in the morning and the afternoon again.”

They came up with such a plan that it was hard deciding.
Each time they saw her coming the cats would all be hiding.
The first day it went all right as they hid beneath the grain.
She caught them running to the barn as it started to pour rain.

The second day they hid beneath the farmer's big, red truck.
It was awfully crowded. Two kitten's tails got stuck.
Vroom the roar of the motor could have sealed their fate.
Grandmother cow had a hunch and asked the farmer to please wait.

He stopped the truck and underneath saw those fearful eyes.
How Bessy knew they were there came as no surprise.
That old heifer had been on the farm since the property was sold.
She was as wise and kind as she was large and definitely old.

One by one grandmother cow rescued them with her tail.
She placed each cat quite softly on the top of a hay bail.
When the cats were accounted for, she told them to go home.
“It’s too late for you young kitty cats, You can stay up when you've grown.”
  “ Respect your elders and listen you might learn something.”
                                        02/06/2021

Written for Fabled Musings Poetry Contest
 Sponsored by Joseph May

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