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I spent yet another evening watching our cats hunt the other night. They had clearly detected an intruder in the house and were very keen to track it down, but whilst they knew exactly where it was they were not having much success at catching it.
I watched them for a while, but then, having imagined some little critter cowering in a corner with 5 razor sharp claws flashing in at it (Socks is missing a front leg), I decided that I should intervene.
I wrote this poem to record the events of that evening, I hope you like it, please feel free to leave a comment;
The three cats knew it was there.
They sat like sentinels in a semi-circle
at the base of the book shelf.
Occasionally an excited shuffle
or flicked claw disturbed the silence.
I looked, but could see nothing,
yet the cats knew it was there.
I wondered if it was escaped prey
or a visitor in the wrong part of town.
Whichever, three on one, it would not last long.
Amidst frustrated cries, I removed the cats
and shut the door on their wails.
Once I had banished them
I sat silently and waited.
Hours passed and then, a scuffle.
Slowly I raised my gaze and there
on top of a book shelf was a mouse.
Its tiny nose sniffed the air
as it scuttled between the ornaments
Its silky smooth body unharmed.
I laid a humane trap
and bated it with cheese.
I hoped to catch the little beast
and set him safely free,
but the little fella’ had other plans.
I flicked the lights off and went to bed.
The cats remained barred from the room,
but through the night they kept vigil,
yowling and scratching at the door
outside the living room.
Just after dawn I checked the room
The trap had not been sprung
The cats sniffed around unsuccessfully
much to their dismay it seemed
our visitor had got away.
John Carré Buchanan
25 January 2012