This is a cat

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This is a cat.

She has a hat

Made out of paper.

She uses it to fly

Through the sky,

And sees all of nature.

It's a wonderful time,

It's really sublime,

This hat made of paper.

But sitting at home

while her cat roams,

is an owner who awaits her.

So this old cat,

With the paper hat,

flies home to Ms. Acre. 

Behind the Poem...Bonding

This is a sort of ode to my cat, Cazy. This poem captures absolutely none of her personality - she is more than content to sit in mom's lap all day long without a thought about the big world outside. And when she does come outside, it's to roll on the dusty porch and no further. I'm not sure I can articulate exactly why I connect this poem with her so much, but I think it's because if she ever did "fly off" I know she would come back.

Cazy was a product of a cat me and my sibling found, named Mrs. Pickles. We found Mrs. Pickles in a bush outside of my mom's old house, and my sibling meowed at her until she got comfortable enough to come out. They had a whole conversation. We then lured Mrs. Pickles into the house with an open can of tuna, and she was ours. Come to find out, Mrs. Pickles was pregnant with several kittens, ones of which was Cazy. When they were born, I knew which one I wanted and she was mine. My husband and I had our wedding right around her being 8 weeks, so the day after we married we put her in a kennel and took off.

I was alone in our new apartment most of the time while my husband was in classes, but I had Cazy. We mostly slept and watched tv during the day, and I would walk her around singing "You are my Cazy cat, my only Cazy cat. I love you, 'cause you are grey" to the tune of You Are My Sunshine. That was 2 years ago and she still gets mad if she doesn't get her "ups". 

I love my Cazy cat dearly, and I do think that even if she did want to go frolick elsewhere for a couple hours, she would always come back to have snuggles with mom. And that last paragraph is dedicated to that notion.

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