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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. %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%