Kitten Poems


Marty

When you came into my house
At twelve weeks old
You went straight behind the couch
And for three hours
You howled for your mother and your siblings.
Now five weeks later,
Master of the littertray,
I am indicating the catflap to you
And have unlocked your inner escape hatch.
But you are far too busy being a silly little kitten
To bother with the great outdoors,
Although you stare at it from the window.
You have fourteen ping pong balls,
Three cloth mice and a rabbit which you love.
At the moment all the ping pong balls are lost.
I will have to do a retrieval search.
With your helterskelter dribbling
You can lose a ball in sixty seconds.
You have dark grey fur,
Four white paws and a white chest.
And half your moustache is white
Quite ruining your looks.
You woke me at six this morning
Bouncing on the bed as you wanted your breakfast.
Peculiar kitten.
You will have a good life here.
Welcome.


Scratching post

Col in the pub told me about the scratching post.
His wife Jill had bought one for their kitten.
Six pounds ninetynine. Argos.
And all their five cats were using it.
Next day I bought one for Marty.
Three feet tall. Coiled with rope. Engineered.
He didn't want anything to do with it.
So for a week I tried to teach him
By lifting up his paws to claw it.
Then I left him alone for another week.
And after that he started using it. Kittens ain't thick.
Back arched, paws scraping,
He was doing the proper cat stuff.
And him only three months old.
But he hasn't yet learnt that his claws are sharp.
And he digs into visitors.
And his bite is sharp.
He has been brought up soft. Not scolded enough.
He will damage someone someday.
But perhaps the furniture won't be ruined.


Marty the mouse

This morning in Sainsburys, the supermarket,
I saw this black cloth mouse, Marty the Mouse,
With its red ears and large felt eyes.
I bought it for my Marty, the kitten.
It was love at first sight.
He flung it over his shoulder, chased after it,
And wouldn't let it go.
He put it in his dinnerplate when he was eating.
He looks at me now with his enormous kitten eyes
Knowing that there are wonders in this world undreamt of.
Slate-grey Marty only had Fritz's leftovers for toys before.
They had lost their scent of catmint.
Now he has his own black mouse with its long tail.
He carries it everywhere.
Kitten life is nothing but excitement.
`Pets should be supervised when playing with toys'.
Says the label.


Catflaps

Marty manages the inside catflap no bother.
I haven't unlocked the outside one yet.
I cleaned and polished the window so carefully
Removing Ludovic's spit.
I lifted Marty up leaning his paws against the glass
To teach him how pressure opened it.
But he wasn't interested.
Now, a week later, he has mastered the art
And goes to and fro like it's nobody's business.

This Sunday when I came back from the pub
I introduced him to the great outdoors
By leaving the outside porch door open.
For two and a half hours I watched him
But he did no more than stare at outside.
He wasn't interested in exploring.
Then this Tuesday afternoon back from the pubs
I did the same.
And this time he ventured out.
But not very far
And keeping an eye over his shoulder
For my moral support.
In a month he will be an outdoor cat.
Then he will have to be doctored.
Kittens are marvellous.


Listening

Marty sits in the darkness,
Listening.
He has gone through the inner catflap
Up to the locked outer,
And there he sits and listens.
He doesn't look through the window in the door,
He just listens.
Tiny kittens have enormous ears.
Growing kittens have enormous eyes.
Information absorbers.
Marty sits and listens.
The night has many voices
Marty listens.


Mouse Games

Marty is always plonking his black cloth mouse
Onto his dinner plate
Whether the plate is full or empty.
I don't understand his thinking.
It is not a matter of dunking the mouse
Cos he must be trying to magic me
To feed him when the plate is licked clean.
Thankfully the mouse has not yet got mucky
Requiring washing.
It has already lost a red ear.
And every morn and night
Marty plays his little game with me.
He brings the mouse to me sitting in my chair
And for half an hour
I have to throw it away as fast as I can
So he can chase and retrieve it.
Of all his toys it is the only one he loves now.
(Except for his scratching post and ping pong balls.)
Must be a faint scent of catmint left.
But it is his very own toy.
Even at five months old Marty is still completely the kitten.
Chunky little beast.



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