Catty Heaven

I can't claim to be particularly religious, and bound by the idea of heaven and hell, but it would be nice to think that Bruce - and any other cats that have 'moved on' - has gone somewhere like this:

Catty Heaven

In catty-heaven

There are no roads;

Just lots of frogs,

And fattened toads.

There’s bees and flies,

With which to play;

On endless warm,

And sunny days.

There’s window sills

That go for miles,

To bask in rays;

Stretch out, in style.

There’s Magpies a-plenty

And if they tease,

We have the power,

To make them freeze!

There’s hoards of mice,
that scamper and scurry;

Huge supplies,
No need to worry.

There’s endless rows

Of trees to climb;
we float back down

In our own time.

There’s lots of happy

Catty friends,
And no-one has

Space to defend.

There’s scratching posts,

That never wear down,
And your favourite spot,

Can always be found.

There’s soft, warm beds,

On which to sleep,
and fresh laundry,
in comfy heaps.

And while you nap,

Hands come from on high,

To tickle your belly
As you purr in reply.

There’s mountains of biscuits,

And fresh lamb in gravy;
by your side, when you wake,

So you can be lazy.

The water is fresh,
and wonderfully cold,
full to the top,

With your name on the bowl.

You can dribble and purr,

To your heart's content,
and there’s chair legs galore,

To rub with your scent.

No sheds or out-buildings
in which to get trapped,
and every nose-nudge,
elicits one back.

Nothing eludes us,

New power to paws,

We can stretch and reach up,

To open closed doors.

We can clean, we can preen,

Once sated, well fed,
Our tongues now stretch out,
to the top of our heads.

When we’ve finished our grooming,

And all work is done,
we can trot off outside,

And chase wasps in the sun….