Cats-22

Cats may come and cats may go,
we've got a puss-flap now you know,
inserted in the kitchen door
about six inches from the floor.
So when they want to dig a hole,
or hunger after short-tailed vole,
they push it with their furry noses
(jump out quick before it closes
like the clappers on their tail),
then saunter off to find the trail
that takes them to their favoured spot.
But here's the problem — we have got
two Labradors who sit inside
and watch the flap all eagle-eyed,
ears pricked to catch the faintest sound
of interest to an active hound.
A footfall, or an opening gate,
is quite enough — one doesn't wait
to find out if it's friend or foe;
straight for the kitchen door we go.
First dog to get there seeks the trap,
thrusts noble features through the gap,
surveys the outside world with pride
then, with the one who's left inside,
sets up a sonic barrage fit
to raise the dead. Now, this is it —

Imagine you're a little cat
returning from a tiring trot
and suddenly confronting that.
How would you like it?
Not a lot!

With apologies to Joseph Heller for the title
Previous Odes of the Month

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