Cats Sleeping (Poem)

Cats Sleeping

My cats sleep in the funniest places,
Often the darkest and smallest of spaces,
A laundry basket full of clothes, fresh from the dryer,
Up into the quiet closet, they climb higher,
In cardboard boxes smaller than their build,
Amongst toys on the floor, laid out like a minefield,
Perched on kitchen cabinets and the kitchen stool,
Or even our laps when they’re already full,
On school work or left around books,
In bags or tiny little nooks,
On the couch and over dining room chairs,
Laying upside down just above the stairs,
Down at the foot of my bed,
Or worse, wrapped around my son’s head.

Catnip (Poem)


Oh boy- my cat is into the catnip,
His own version of an acid trip,

Into cardboard boxes, he’s biting holes,
Sudden jumps and death rolls,

For no reason, he runs through the house,
Maybe he’s after an imaginary mouse?

He sets off chasing our other cat,
Always ending in meows and combat,

To us, he comes to nip and bite,
Ready for a little play and a little fight,

When he’s had his fill of our little bout,
He flops to the floor all tuckered out,

A few rubs later I can hear him purr,
He’s got so much catnip in his fur,

As he cleans himself, his tail starts to whip,
Oh no- he’s gotten another taste of catnip!

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