— By Kathy Anne Pippig (Harris)
I live in a shelter, alone in a cage
With food, and a towel on which to sleep
I’m small, with spiky fur, and of kitten age
Folks come here looking for a friend to keep
Some days others and myself are taken to a home
A place where strangers live, but each is alone
Once an old man caressed me gently, murmured and sighed
As his tears spilled to my shoulder from tightly closed eyes
We also went where there are machines and bright lights
A big place for babies and children who are ill
As each child checked us over it was hard to stay still
To each patient was given the choice of us to pick
A time for a while to forget they were sick
I was brought to a girl, with hair the color of night
With her hands she explored my body and face
And her touch as fragile and intricate as lace
She lifted me up so she could smell my fur
I mewed and she smiled, then stroked me, and I purred
She said, “I am blind, but you have made this moment bright.”
During the week many come to the pound
Down each aisle they make the rounds
Sometimes a kitten is chosen and homeward bound
And even rarer, a lost loved one is found
The last of summer passed, then gone, too, was fall
No longer a kitten, I’d grown lanky and tall
In the wintry months fewer folks came to call
So the kittens were gone on a visit, but not us all
Lonely, I watched shadows move at the end of the hall
I fell asleep, dreaming of the visits I did make
When my fur was spiky and my pads pink and small
Then hands tenderly shook me and stirred me awake
As a man carried me, he took my picture from the wall
When he stepped outside, he wrapped a blanket ’round me
Put me in the backseat of a car and drove away
I sat up, wondering where we were — trying to see
But the windows were frosty, so back down I lay
The car came to a stop and the man turned around
His expression gentle, he took me out of the car
He climbed some stairs, knocked, then opened a door
He strode in and laid me in another man’s arms
I was hugged, caressed tenderly, and the old man sighed
As his tears spilled to my shoulder from tightly closed eyes
Thank you, my son! It is he, the one I had held before.
“Hey, fella! I’ll bet you wondered where you were bound?
“Well, my furry friend, you need worry no more.
“In time for Christmas, you are, and — homeward found!”
Copyright 2005 Kathy Pippig Harris