This was written for a friend, Donna Moore, whose family owned such a cat and asked me to write a poem about it; Donna asked, not the cat. s


THE CAT IN THE CUPBOARD

Early in life I knew of our guest
Who silently hid in our kitchen to rest.
Was he part of the family? Did he have our last name?
Did he know he was "It" in our family game?
We tried to include him. We tried with all might.
But he was determined to stay out of sight.
Our infamous cat in the cupboard.

Our feline stayed in his cupboard all day
And only came out when we were away.
Way back on the shelf is where he called home,
And he only came out late at night just to roam.
Then before we would wake he'd get back in once more.
And we knew every time, for he left open the door.
This reclusive old cat in the cupboard.

Oh, he was a beauty! Just glimpses we got.
He was all white, with brown and black spots.
We'd catch him at times looking affably dear,
As he cleaned and preened in front of a mirror.
But as soon as he knew his presence was known
He'd head for the corner that he called his own.
What a picturesque cat in the cupboard!

We bribed him with tuna. We bribed him with cheese.
But he was impervious to all of these.
He waited so patiently for no one about,
Then made quite a pig of himself, there's no doubt.
Stealth was his name; a tidy one, too.
For all of the food he found, we never knew.
That incorrigible cat in the cupboard.

It's amazing that he never made up a mess.
He couldn't have known that our mom would obsess
If he ever left crumbs or snippets behind.
She always was cleaning and always could find
Some messes for us to clean; yes she could!
But never our recluse. No. He never would.
Our fastidious cat in the cupboard.

Once I awoke with a bit of a fright.
Our cat was awake in the dead of the night,
Imposing his song of love to all who would hear.
The feline next door must have been quite near,
For the bellowing roars could be heard far and wide.
If I were she I would find some place to hide
From our eloquent cat in the cupboard.

One evening quite soon after all had retired
Our friend found mom's yarn; a cache he admired.
It didn't take long to awake to his shout.
Poor kitty was tied up in yarn. "MEOW! Let me out!"
It took a good bit for our mom to prevail.
When she freed him from yarn we saw only his tail.
That mischievous cat in the cupboard.

For years it went on with our illusive pet.
We knew he was there. We loved him, and yet
Our efforts to play with him never came through.
He wasn't the kind to cuddle or coo.
He wasn't our playmate, nor did we forget
He demanded his space. He demanded respect
For this reticent cat in the cupboard.

And, oh, how we miss him!
Our invincible cat in the cupboard.