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by Norman
Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #2172477
Do they really have nine lives?
He was an old tomcat
with a notch in his ear.
He let no one get close;
you couldn’t get near.

He’d hiss and he’d spit, too,
and roll up his back.
He’d coil and he’d crouch down
as if to attack.

His hair was disheveled,
a dark tawny brown.
His face was unsettled
with a permanent frown.

But I loved that old cat
like roses love rain.
That cat would remind me
the world was insane.

If you want to survive
you’d better be tough.
Just like that old tomcat,
the world can be rough.

And though they all thought he
was mean as can be,
that creature was always
a kitten to me.

For I was his close friend,
a stray just like he.
We rescued each other;
I saw him in me.

He didn’t have a real name;
I just called him Cat.
And true to his nature
he was okay with that.

And though that cat passed on
as every pet will,
he lives on in my heart.
He’s part of me still.

As mean as he could be,
as tough as he grew,
he really did make a
quite tasty cat stew.

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