Miracle is a kitten
who’s lucky to be alive.
A tiny little thing
with big brown-yellow eyes.

A severe case of mastitis
made Miracle’s queen forlorn
because she couldn’t feed her kittens
from the moment they were born.

So I got out the bottles,
and fed the litter of three,
but Miracle was the only one
to survive the whole six weeks.

Now she thinks that I’m her mom.
She’s either human, or I’m a cat.
And, the reason that I spin this yarn
is to think a little more on that.

I wanted to train her to go
to the bathroom like humans do,
but to do that, I had to think like a cat,
and I didn’t have a clue.

I knew that I could train her,
and I’d do a job so fine
the circus would be jealous.
I just had to get into her mind.

So I sat and watched this kitten
and I tried to understand
why she did the things she does,
but it was hard for this cowhand.

No matter what I did
or how hard I tried,
the more commands I gave,
the less she would abide.

I can talk with most critters.
You can be sure of that.
The only animal that I can’t figure,
Just happens to be the cat.

I can speak “Doglish” with ease,
and I’ve tamed mean billy goats.
I move cattle without a care.
I know all those by rote.

I can train a thousand-pound horse
from up there on his back.
So why is it that I’m having fits
training a five-pound cat?

The worst part of the problem
is that it seems that SHE’S trained ME.
Every time I hear a meow, I say,
“What’s the matter, my little sweetie?”

November 25, 2001