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Cat Ownership

You have to love them to sift their latrine,
The uric fragrance burning your nose and eyes
As you render their special place fresh and clean—
One of them watches, impatient, and sighs.
You have to be ready for sleep-rending howls
When one recovers his ragged cloth ball—
At twelve or two—shaking it with feral growls,
Boasting his prey up and down the hall.
You must be attentive—even at four—
If bowls are empty and bellies not full:
Rude rattling and scratching on the bedroom door
Has such a hypnotic, nerve-racking pull.
How apt the pharaohs decreed them divine,
While litter-box slaves were treated like swine.
Préféré par...
Autres oeuvres par B. B. Woodall...



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