While to pragmatism he inclines
And happy on my knee reclines,
My cat does sometimes dwell
Upon the spiritu-el.
At such a very special time
His green fluorescent eyes search mine …
‘If there were a God’, he thinks,
‘Surely birds would not have wings?
Or, given that they do,
Then surely I should have them too’
He stretches out a sensual paw,
Digs in my knee a cutlass claw …
‘If there is a God, when there is fish,
Why is tinned food on my dish?
And if God made the tiny flea,
How come He spared no thought for me?
For all I try , I cannot see
That He who made the dog made me!
One thing for certain sure is that
God does nothing for a cat!’
A thoughtful wash behind the ears.
‘I’ll take life on as it appears,
And since this God is not for me,
I’ll seek truth in philosophy’.
But he no longer cares.
He turns upon his back and bares
His softest fur to my caresses,
And through half closed eyes confesses
Is content to be!