I talked myself into this old and vile cat,
Fat, and angry,
And rendered in Red and Black,
It slept lazily at an old friend’s house,
Inept, foul-mouthed, unwilling to catch a mouse,
My Old Friend went to get her hip replaced,
And her old cat,
had to be placed,
Into a New Home, absolutely Post-Haste,
This old cat,
screeches, night and day,
This vile hag,
screeches, for food and play,
“MmmmReoooooWWWWW” in the morning,
“MmmmReoooooWWWW” late at night,
“MmmmReoooooWWWWW” as a scorning,
Even if I am out of sight.
Her name is Brown-Cat, and she is older than the hills,
18, or 20, or unfathomably old,
Believe her age to be what you will,
She is a simple cat, who despises the cold...
She cannot jump, not like a kitten,
So she whines,
like an un-gloved mitten,
And I lift up her arthritic ass,
So she can sleep in my bed,
with disgusting Hag-Cat Sass.
Link:
https://theodorekentwallace.substack.com/p/the-hag-cat
