In Dalston, London, where we lived for a spell,

we saw many stray cats & some were unwell.

From having just one cat of our own at the start,

we soon had 3 living with us but soon one had to part.

 

Poor Tommy had been our first and always on the hop,

but from the fits he was having that the vet could not stop

it soon became clear he was in danger so the time came

when we walked back from the vets with nowt but his name.

 

Then another cat came to our back door one day, 

a white bibbed tabby who wanted somewhere to stay

and with her nice strong purring and pleasing manners,

we soon made friends, but you know she was a scammer.

 

For no sooner had she made sure that a welcome was hers,

than she wandered off and came back with mouthfuls of furs,

four tiny kittens were her gift to us that fine sunny day

and then she vanished for a while, where we cannot say.

 

Maybe 3 or 4 days later she returned and purred again,

the kittens were pleased and we were freed from the pain

of endless loud mewing day and night from them all,

but when they grew bigger new homes heard them call.

 

So back to three cats we were for a year or more,

at least until we moved from that flat with the dingy door,

and moved over the river to Southwark for many a year,

where many more stray cats came and went, never fear.

 

For by then we had linked with the cat protection crowd

and boarded many strays as the landlady kindly allowed,

she had 2 of her own and so the four floors of that house

were a most unlikely place to find even the bravest mouse.

 

Good as our own mewers were at keeping things clean,

we couldn’t say the same for the guests, know what I mean?

So we kept a room just for the homeless kitties to stay,

cleaning up their cat ass trophies was easier that way...

 

©Rhumour

October 2nd 2014