How to Be a Cat

You may be fat, you may be lean,

or even something in  between.

It doesn’t really matter what;

it’s not the waistline makes the cat.

But you must learn to move with grace

and be inscrutable of face.

You need to undulate and slink,

while not revealing what you think.

Your deepest thoughts I mean, of course.

The urgent you’ll convey with force —

like, ‘Let me out!’ and  ‘Feed me now!’

‘Purr!’ is reward; chastisement ‘Miaow!’

You have to train your human pet.

You must be firm. Don’t ever let

them really have the upper hand,

though they may think so — understand?

But there are limits, I’m afraid,

to how much headway can be made.

They’ll never learn to hunt and kill,
although you demonstrate with skill.

But you can show them where you itch

and teach them proper ways to scratch,

and how much room you need in bed,

and let them stroke you when they’re good.

Your fur and whiskers and your claws,

you will clean them — they are yours.

And you will keep both yard and house

free of lizard, bird or mouse.

So you establish boundaries,

and can create a life of ease.

And if you will do all of that,
it won’t be hard to be a cat.

Poetic Asides November Poem A Day Challenge, 13: Self help