(after Christopher Smart, 1722 – 1771)
For I will consider my Cat Rosie.
For she is the servant of her empty stomach, duly and daily serving it.
For at the first light of day she pounces upon my face.
For this is done by squawking like a parrot or a fishwife .
For then she leaps up to catch a sunbeam, which is the passing of heaven on the earth.
For having done duty and received feeding she begins to consider herself.
For first she looks upon her forepaws to see if they are pink.
For secondly she chews her toenails and leaves detritus scattered there.
For thirdly she stretches on my blackest clothes, adorning them with fur .
For fourthly she sharpens her paws on my bloody table.
For fifthly she runs out of steam and dozes for ten hours.
For when her day’s work is done her business more properly begins.
For she keeps watch on my bed against intruders.
For she is of the tribe of Tiger.
For she has the subtlety of a buffalo.
For she sneezes copiously on account of her wounded nostrils.
For she purrs like a angle grinder.
For my house is incomplete without her.
For she winds around my ankles like a slinky.
For God has blessed her in the variety of her movements.
For, though she has four teeth, she’s a fine mouser.
For her motions are not outside for more than five minutes.
For she can sleep through all my nonsense.
For she can creep.