Trying To Not Think of Kittens
Jake was trying not to think of kittens, or fluffy tailed cats.
He’d been dreaming of them since he’d seen one in the salt flats.
His wife wanted a dog, but cats were the creatures for him.
He knew their chances for an agreement were decidedly slim.
Not cats, not cats, not cats, he chanted, as he walked to work.
Someone in a luxury car nearly ran him down. The big jerk!
He saw them on stoops, behind garbage cans, and one near a tree.
Altogether that morning he counted six hundred and three.
One who understood omens and clear signs from Alaska, Gnome,
Jake wondered what would happen if one followed him home.
He was whistling big now, singing “Cat Baby Don’t You Cry”
When he happened to hear a loud sorry meow way up in the sky.
What to his wandering blue non-looking-cat-eyes should appear?
But a fluffy beautiful minx cat whose brown eyes were full of fear.
He told her to jump, but she was way too fearful to comply.
So he bought a ladder that reached nearly up to the sky.
He got up there and got that cat, saving its life.
It did not appreciate it nor want to go home to his wife.
Then he tried to take the ladder back to get his money.
But they refused to take it, so he took that home to his honey.
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