Homage à Pookie

Homage à Pookie

I’m a dog man really
but when the Girl brings home a kitten,
a tuxedo bundle of softest silk,
bright with quick intelligence,
inventor of ways to sharpen her skills,
claiming the household as hers
without hesitation and we, her humans,
accepted as staff but treated with care,
and when that cat comes to me
and teaches me to play Fetch,
a dog’s game if ever there was one,
chooses me to sleep upon,
and knows the name I gave her,
I am undone, defences scattered,
faithful servant of hers become.

I’m a dog man at heart
but this little cat, feline to the core,
killer of mice and stalker of birds,
lightning flash about the house,
leaper of gaps impossible,
clearer of tables and shelves,
this cat now long and lithe,
delicate and precise, wise and yet wild,
understands what I say as only dogs
(and, even then, only some breeds)
can. So canine is she, so bound to us
as we are bound to her by love,
each dependent on the other
and knowing it, that no importance
lies in what she is, cat or dog
or human, she is forever
(and this within a year)
a member of the family.

I’m a dog man always
and now a cat man too.


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