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" 'But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!'

From the Hunting of the Snark - by lewis carrol

Domestic shorthair, part main coon, maybe.
100% stray bred
Born in the laundry room
Now also the ‘cat’ room
20 lbs of fat, fuzzy, fury
and love
Taught me tail signals
‘Follow me’, ‘upset’
and ‘happily content’
Taught me how to say
‘come here’ in cat
he said it to a bird
I overheard
I said it to a neighborhood cat
As she came padding over
instantaneously my friend
I learned
cats are twisted
but still irresistibly cute
I always thought every cat
Liked to have their fur brushed backwards
Would sleep next to you when you were sick
Ask politely for everything
Whittle the chair legs with their back paws when upset
Purr at the perfect tone to enslave all humans
Brought home their girlfriends
Wait outside the door when you asked them to
Offered pressents in thanks
Play practical jokes on you
Look insulted when called ‘Motesbosuput’
Listen to your conversation
Never accept anything you offered, except food
And walk around as if life was something funny
But they don’t,
One thing I learned
my cat was not a cat
he was a snark
and he had five toes on every paw
to prove it

6 May 06

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He died  a few years ago, I didn't cry much when he did because, by the time he died, he was just a shadow of what he used to be. I think im more upset over this poem than I was then. Anyway, i have so much to say, that the poem is mostly unsatisfactory to me, it feels messy. all thoughts are helpful.
 — katt

I think its purrfect. Its about your cat, no one can change the sentiment. At times poems are what it means for you,  and not others....

P.S. My Dog hated it!
 — KevinJSkinne

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