This poem was written in honor of, and dedicated to Theodor Geisel, better known as Doctor Seuss, who was born on March 2nd, and in celebration and acknowledgement of: Imagine If Pets Had Opposable Thumbs Day on March 3rd, Multiple Personality Day on March 5th, National Frozen Food Day on March 6th, National Potato Chip Day on March 14th, Poultry Day on March 19th, the Vernal Equinox on March 20th, Extra-terrestrial Abductions Day on March 20th, National Puppy Day on March 21st, and Smoke and Mirrors Day on March 29th.
Imagine If Cats Had Opposable Thumbs
or – Frisky Gypsy Tours the Skies of Poughkeepsie
For years the cat Gypsy has lived in my house
she ate gourmet food only, and never a mouse
or a turtle, a frog, or a goldfish aswim in my tank
after meals Gypsy licked herself clean, never stank.
But one day this month something strange grew on Gypsy
and things like that just do not pass in Poughkeepsie
each hand-foot she owned grew a new thumb, a digit
and suddenly Gypsy the cat was a wizard.
Shortly habits like brushing her own fur became easy,
she filed twenty-four nails to the sharpest Burmese-y-
like stingers, each polished the colors of bees, she
even used a hot curler to spiff up her tail
and opened the envelops left in the mail.
She got into my makeup and used my mascaras,
opened my delicates drawer, and stole silk banderas.
Then Gypsy, able to tie streamers in a sweet bow
about her feminine scruff, curtsied deep and low.
She kept her eyes glued to mine the total time
to query, did I realize she was quite so sublime?
The next day was worse for both me and pup Chuck
Gypsy opened the freezer and then went amok!
She took out a dinner – turkey, gravy and stuffing,
left me nothing to eat for that day ‘cept for a muffin.
She popped frozen meal in to the microwave
I thought that she’d topped herself to misbehave….
The thing that amazed me the most that she did
was absconding organic potato chips that I’d hid
in a cabinet high above wall tiles glazed with peaches
In a most secret space way up over the sink, Gypsy reaches….
She’d scanned the garage for a helpful device,
dragged in a ladder, opened it to new heights.
And wouldn’t you know it, out fell three blind mice.
The six-fingered Gypsy was in paradise.
Gypsy let the spooked mice run away undetained,
I jumped on a chair, that kook cat was a pain.
She climbed up five metal steps, in record time
and opened the safe, she thought not of her crime
She sat on the top rung for her little snack,
relaxed, almost fell through the large open back.
Gypsy glared through the kitchen assigning the blame
to anyone, everyone found in the same.
The unruly cat ripped open the sack via a pointy toe nail
then she unsealed tequila, stirred in Jalepeño, creating a spicy cocktail.
Gypsy speared each chip singly with her manicured claws
and chewed chips deliberately in dainty jaws.
Each chip that she crunched on sent Chuck in a fit,
no he did not like this, not one little bit.
My pup Chuck was crazy,
he begged and he whined,
but this did not faze Gypsy
it was as if she were blind.
The self-centered nomad was causing a ruckus
I sure felt like spanking her, there on her tokhus!
I could not ‘cause that taboo, just did not seem right,
but I was pot-steaming mad, straight through the late night.
A UFO buzzed by the window on Monday,
much to the whole household’s dismay.
It landed right there on our new concrete driveway
and summarily got in the way.
I wanted to back my car out and escape,
instead I watched little grey men change their shape.
Although I’d love to downplay, it felt like doomsday,
and I was stuck to the floor with scotch tape.
The small ashen men came in right through the walls.
They wore stunningly bright silvery coveralls.
They did not say hi, or hello, or good day,
did not even whisper a small little “hey.”
Gypsy’d hid in the closet in a basket of knitting,
but the spacemen searched through my house, no intention of quitting,
A small golden finder which beeped was transmitting.
The cool little tool, which looked like a spool
grew louder and louder as they closed in on that fool,
that damn thing was fully unremitting.
The spotter grew louder as they cornered the feline,
the pup passed some water, they cared not for canine.
Chuck hid under the bed, and pulled in his legs,
and took a nice dump on the white pine.
The strange extra thumb which appeared this past Wednesday
its source suddenly now fully apparent.
Was this some sort of zoo-like ET enterprise?
Would they next make my kitty transparent?
Then the five charcoal squishy guys with a mod animal crate
opened the hall closet portal.
Gypsy unfortunate, trapped as she tried to escape,
was put in a trance, hypnotized by an immortal.
They dressed my dear cat in a mercuric space suit,
and then screwed on a clear see-through helmet.
Gypsy hissed and she mewed, and next mewled like a newt,
but my body was stuck, my feet taped, glued and set.
No, I could not save my dear Gypsy that day,
and Chuck turned his tail to the goddess to say
I am glad you are leaving you pussy, you cat
I am happy to hear it, now scat cat, just scat!
Then Gypsy was gone, and we thought forever,
but you cannot count cats out, they are very cleaver.
The little slate aliens returned my pet cat,
on the eve of the Spring Equinox,
then tipsy Gypsy shed one of her lives, almost shat,
and sped straight to her privy sandbox.
I could see their paled faces were all covered with scars,
swollen scratches that looked like the structures on Mars.
It sure served them right, for mutating my cat,
stealing her, from right under my nose – and in fact,
the travelers took off with such incredible haste,
they left the top hatch of their saucer in place
on my lawn, so I called and I spoke to the NSA,
and those guys dressed in black, on counterattack, came right over the very same day.
I neglected to tell them my cat was kidnapped.
Gypsy’d been through enough, wouldn’t you say?
I don’t know how those grey little creeps could have got home,
since they were missing the sealing top of their flying dome.
But I didn’t care, as you must be aware, they gave Gypsy abduction syndrome!
I spoiled deranged Gypsy-cat back to a good mental state,
stuffed with salmon, sole, and sardines she did re-acclimate.
After that the cat Gypsy was so very happy
to be home that she curled up right next to the puppy.
Chuck, just like a dog, forgot all she did,
and licked her right from her whiskers, up to her third eyelid.
And now every night she-cat sits whorled on my lap,
purrs profoundly, and licks her opposable thumbs.
Content not to use them for other than that.
She stretches this way her whiskers, and that way her buns,
she’s a spinal-twisted, elongated, accordian cat.
She sleeps on the sofa and takes a catnap,
when awakened she is known to hiss.
a hiss is a perfectly normal event
overall, in an earthly cat’s full repertoire.
To keep her from boredom, we take walks in bad weather.
And once a year cousin Trudy will visit from Minsk,
and brings Gypsy some black caviar.
You might not believe it, but I am no liar,
I watch Gypsy smoke catmint in bliss.
She is very careful, and never sets fire,
to the sofa, the drapes, or books Seuss.
She requires the stuff for her brain to rewire,
not get funked and fall in the abyss.
Her outer-space memories cause her to perspire,
and her binge eating is making her fat.
You might not believe it, but I am no liar,
this IS the true story of Gypsy the cat.