All summer
we have a series of cats who cross the fence in our garden, travelling through.
They come and go, and we’ve even had one cross our roof. But in the winter months
they seem to be wisely staying inside – except that is for Mr Tabby, who continues
to stride around slowly, like he owns the place.
Tabby
cat
Mr
Stripe takes passage through a stranger’s garden,
follows
a zig-zag path down a stranger’s garden,
climbs walls
and navigates fences, sniffing his larder.
With the
air of a king, he strides, nose in air,
oblivious
to friend or foe, he stalks, nose in air,
taking a
pleasant Sunday stroll without a care.
He’s
streetwise around cars, crossing the road fast,
looking
from left to right, he runs the road fast,
saving his
fancy park promenade right until last.
Today he’s
on the shed roof, looking back at me.
With a
wash of his paw, he stares right back at me.
I open a
can of tuna and he charges, straight as a bee.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, December 30, 2021
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