There’s this grey cat that lives at the end of our street. He’s always perched on the railing outside his house in the early, early freezing cold Toronto morning, all huddled up, waiting patiently for his owner to let him inside after a night on the prowl. When I see him there, it’s all I can do not to go snatch him up and bring him to live with me in the lap of luxury, where he’ll never be cold, and where there will always be snacks and cozy spots to sleep in the sun. I wonder what he would choose? A life of freedom (and icy cold mornings), or an indoor existence complete with endless pampering?
Alley Cat – by Esther Valck Georges
A bit of jungle in the street
He goes on velvet toes,
And slinking through the shadows, stalks
(from The Beauty of the Beast, poems selected by Jack Prelutsky)
(photo © Michael Jastremski for openphoto.net CC:Attribution-ShareAlike)