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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required sure it used to be a funeral home, but it looks pretty tame now This was stated by my cousin, whose military record is a wow. He has been to the Persian Gulf, and lived through it, you see But his urging and coaxing in no way influenced scaredy cat me. I let them traipse around the place as long as they cared. But stayed in the truck, writing poems, as field cows stared. They seemed curious, and came over to the fence to see. Their eyes were full of compassion, they dazzled me. While I was there a brown cat came by and gave me a look. His broken tail was pronounced, it looked like a pirate’s hook. I named him Mr. Jeeves, and spoke to him, but he did not come close. In no way did I think this little cat was mysterious or a kind of ghost. The tale of the Himalayan cat was told at the campfire by cousin Huck. He and his owner nine-year-old Helen had died in front of a truck. Wait a second! I said. Did he have a crooked tail, this Mr. Jeeves? He did after the truck accident, said my other cousin Louise. So I had sat in the car, afraid to go inside. And a ghost cat had visited me, but had not taken a ride. They were buried in the same casket aid my cousin Clyde. Some claim to see Mr.Jeeves sometimes in the countryside. As they told the story I felt my neck hairs stand up straight. I turned my head, and a blonde girl was peeking at me from a gate. She and Mr. Jeeves disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. My skin was raised up in welts, I was now terrified and hived.
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