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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4673 Registered: 11-1998 |
January 22 2001 Poem of the Week The O. Henry Cat Harolyn J. Gourley (a.k.a., Packrat) My neighbours had an ancient cat -- Aged twenty years, at least -- And though they coaxed her every day, This 'independent' beast Would never step inside their door -- No 'house-cat' shame had she -- But took her meals upon their porch; A true-born cat, and free. From whence she came, no man can tell; Her genesis -- mystique. The neighbours found her as a youth, Sun-warmed and sound asleep; Upon their father's grave she'd lain (Sweet hour of paws repose) And brought her home to Hamlen St.-- For luck, I would suppose. They called her "Sniff" and learned to live According to her ways, And more than once they shook their heads And thought they'd rue the day; For what's the use to keep a cat Who'd never come inside? But, she was "independent" And they'd just have to abide. And, in her prime, she was a lion To four-foot, beak and wing. She stalked and pounced and thrilled to life-- Just listen to her sing! And though she'd never step inside Their lowly, human house, In all the time she graced their lives They never saw a mouse! Through years of hunts and dawn patrols And footpad-silent nights, Of sunny porch and shady bow'r That were a cat's delight, She held her own and made her way -- Her cat-soul ne'er was "bought" -- For, she was "independent", Just in case you had forgot! Now, cats are territorial And this one, true to form, Patrolled the borders of her world In weathers cold or warm. Across the street, my auntie lived -- My aunt, who had no cat -- So Sniff decided to make sure She'd never see a rat! Two houses, then, became her ward -- She'd rest beneath the porch. Whenever strangers ventured near, Her protest she'd send forth. And, oh, the noise that cat could make, Her challenge roaring out! She'd keep my aunt's integrity -- Of that, there was no doubt. And thus the seamless years slid by 'Til I, at length, came home To care for Auntie -- in decline; Too soon, I was alone. But, no, not quite, for every time I stepped upon the walk, The guardian beneath the porch Let out her fearsome squawk. I'd smile and shake my head and say, "Go on -- I live here, now." And Sniff would sniff, as if to say, "Behave yourself, or, POW!" I never yelled or chased her off, Though Pride, betimes, was stung; For years she'd faithfully kept guard -- She'd earned the weight she swung. And Sniff was getting on in age -- Her years were plain to see; Her coat was thick and matted, And she'd slowed, to some degree. More often now, upon the porch, She'd stretch out in the sun And soak the heat up as she slept -- We seldom saw her run. A year ago this spring, things changed-- At first, I was perplexed; For she'd appear upon my porch And howl in tones quite vexed. ‘Til fin'ly I took the hint And set a dish outside; Then Sniff would breakfast, quite content, While I went back inside. A week of this, and I called Deb To see if she'd declined To feed the old cat anymore, But, no, Sniff, double-dined! Within a month she went no more To Deb, across the street; It seemed that now my porch was where Sniff chose to take her meat. We laughed about it, Deb and I, And 'cause I'm life-long poor, Deb bought the cat food I'd serve up When Sniff came to my door. And through the summer days it went, And still, when autumn came; I served this ragged, scruffy cat That never had been tamed. And 'twas no easy service, for When Sniff, to need, gave voice, Her strident call could shake the walls -- Refusal was no choice, And in a while it dawned on me -- The reason she was loud -- That years of ear-mite damage Had reduced this cat, once proud. If Sniff was looking at you And she saw her dish in hand, She'd hasten to receive it, And she'd think it mighty grand. But if you were behind her And she didn't see her host, She wouldn't know you answered -- She was near-deaf as a post. 'N' we'd often see her stagger, If she took a sudden step, For her balance, too, was shattered By the gunk down in the depths. I'd have to stomp upon the boards -- She'd feel me shake the porch; Then, blithely, she would turn around To see what I'd brought forth. When winter came, with bitter winds, For once she seemed, inclined To show some int'rest in the hall That, from me, stretched behind. And I thought, if she'd just come in, To take her bit of sup, At least while she was eating, Just for then, she could warm up. I held the door and showed the dish And coaxed her to come in, But she demurred and would not step Inside my human den. But when I propped the door ajar And left her to her pride -- Before I'd reached the kitchen, that Old cat had come inside. And sometime after Christmas (This had gone on, now, for weeks) More often she would snooze a while Before the door she'd seek. And soon it wasn't she who'd howl -- There wasn't any doubt; She seldom asked to be "set free,” 'Twas me who'd put her out. Then, all at once, the "light came on," As daybreak lights the dawn, 'N' the insight came that clued me in To what was going on. And I recalled a story that, I think, O. Henry penned About an aging hired hand And how he'd met his end. The details, I could not recall; The point was graven deep and, long a-slumber in my soul, Awakened from its sleep. I knew, deep down, that it was thus Between this cat and I -- This life-long "independent" Had come home to me, to die. This scruffy lump of matted fur With cloudy, rheumy eye, This aging unrepentant who Had never come inside, This poor infested, wretched scrap Who'd seen and done it all Had come to me for refuge And the hospice of my hall. Was ever there such compliment (Though few would recognize), Such gift of trust and confidence As shone in this one's eyes? The trusting quest for simple acts That cannot be repaid; A load to bear -- because you're there -- With nothing gained in trade? Of course, you know the cat moved in; Her bowls sat in the hall. She slept in an old reed basket With a blanket to cover all. And though she'd never been so trained, My doubts, aside, were torn, For she took to the kitty-litter box As if to the Manor born. Through winter's term she seldom left Except on sunny days, When she would lay her weary bones To soak up winter rays. By then, she'd let me pet her, though 'Twas only on her head; The mat she wore was stiff and hard -- 'Twas less alive than dead. And, Lord, she was the sweetest thing You'd ever want to know; And once she gave her heart away, She quickly let me know -- She'd purr and tried to rub my legs, Though often she would lurch, For when she'd brush against her ears, 'Twas plain it really hurt. So, me, I got the neighbour girl To come and help me out. She held the cat -- at full arm's-length -- I worked back from her snout, And clipped and snipped and did my best To clear a petting path. (I hoped, if I could get her shorn, One day we'd try a bath!) The day I cleared her, stem to stern -- Three inches wide, the back -- I feared for my composure, for It very nearly cracked. I drew my hand from nose to tail O'er fragile, parchment skin That long had missed the air and light Her mat had not let in. At first, she jumped; then, with a sigh (I swear I heard it so!) She arched her back and purred and purred, And would not let me go. It had been years since she had Truly felt the least caress. She fell asleep upon my lap, And I knew that I'd been Blessed. This spring I took her to the vet.'s And, yes, it cost me dear; But at night I'd hear her crying For her mite-infested ears. And lately she had suffered much -- A tooth had been abscessed -- And how she'd ever fought it off, Well, only God could guess. She took it well and soon forgave Those gross indignities, But I knew, by then, that time was short -- 'Twas but a brief reprieve. With summer soon, and warmer days, She took to going out; And in, and out, and in again -- She darn near wore me out! I confess that I turned stubborn, When the day's last light would fall; Then I took my turn at being "deaf" And didn't hear her call. For the streets about turned busy, and She was so deaf and slow, To die in pain and fear and shock, 'Twould be too cruel a blow. Then June arrived, and balmy nights Brought scented memories; And Sniff so wanted to go out Upon Midsummer's Eve. The moon was full, her heart was gay -- 'Twas purr-fect for a stroll; I scratched her back and petted her And then, I let her go. My mind's eye sees her sniff the air That fluffs her new-grown fur, And walks with her along the track Where feathers fly and fur, Like downy puffs, explodes in fright -- I hear the squeak arrest. Then, to a well-belov'ed den Where, paws tucked to her chest, She snuggles in some cozy lair Where she had passed her years -- A little nap,to catch her breath, In calm repose from fears. And, dreaming, hear as every branch Pours bird-song on the sward; And somewhere down the Paw-Twitch path She passed to her reward. I know there's those who'll think that I'm A sucker for all that; That, 'twas a sin I was beguiled By an old and dirty cat. For she was unrepentant And she never stooped to please, But I can't begrudge that weary dam Those last few months of ease. Look, poverty's an awful thing, When riches we don't merit, But it seems to me the worst would be That poverty of spirit That makes us choose to turn away In someone's hour of need. Don't all those rules just make us fools, When we've no charity? For know that, someday, you and I Will wish a gentler penance; For a scrap of rug and a warming mug We'll trade our independence. And hope that life will give us leave To come in from the weather And grant us each that bit of ease, Before we're gone forever. |
