SHEBA THE CAT

 SHEBA THE CAT

Phyllis J. Wright

The cat in question was thrust upon me

 in a moment of weakness.

My cleaning girl said,

“If you don’t take her, she will be “put down.”

What was I to do?

I had casually mentioned I missed my last cat.

My other cat, the one that died,

She was a loving and devoted cat,

I named her, “Puddy Cat, Puddy Cat.”

We had a dog named, “Edgar Allan Poe.”

And they got along famously.

Now I am the owner of a scrawny young cat

Not at all what I expected, the tip of one ear missing.

She walks around stiff legged

 with a skinny twitching tail.

I named her, “Queen Sheba.”

For she thinks she owns this place.

When the cat was brought in my house

I was told she didn’t like other cats

I saw a gray and white streak run across my kitchen.

SHEBA                                                                          This was the forerunner of her behavior

I assumed she didn’t like people or her new owner.

There was a list of things I was to do for the cat.

I learned I had adopted her, but was on, “Probation.”

There was not a word what the cat was to do.

I was informed when she was to eat,

And there is the Cat Box I was keep clean.

Why did I say I will take the cat?

Fragrance is important to me.

I spend hours drying roses

And making potpourri for every room in my house.

The fragrance is like a flower garden.

Now, in comes a cat with a box.

The cat was to have her breakfast at the crack of dawn.

My Husband must eat the minute he enters the kitchen.

That was the dilemma the cat is hungry too.

If breakfast is not forthcoming my husband is irritated.

It’s disrupts his daily routine, an age-old habit.

When my husband comes staggering into the kitchen

Half-asleep, unshaven ready for breakfast,

 he sees me opening a can of smelly fish.

“What are you doing? He storms, isn’t the coffee made?”

The cat’s routine is not his routine.

SHEBA                                                                      Get rid of that cat, I’ve never liked cats,

I am a dog person.”

My husband is a man of few words.

“How can I”

“Put her outside, that will take care of that.”

“That would be cruel.”  

I filled her blue bowl with fresh water.

“It is my duty to feed her she is scratching on your chair.

She is starving when she wakes up.”

“So am I,” said my husband.

“You are not a helpless animal!”

“You could prepare your own breakfast if you wanted to.”

“I am a helpless animal.”

“Too helpless to fix breakfast for yourself?”

“I have never fixed my own breakfast.

 More coffee.”

“A promise is a promise,”

 I said, as I poured cream into a bowl.

“I made a promise, I gave my word.”

 I said, “I will take the cat.”

At that moment Sheba walks in,

Jumps up into the lap of my husband.

“I hear her purr.”