avatarJosie Klakström

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Abstract

of the black cat who sits in my garden, ever wondered what happens to cat poo, when it’s left to harden?</p><p id="8565">It sits in the hot sun, and my children want to investigate, ‘why is it white?’ they ask. It’s going to ruin the flower bed at this rate.</p><p id="736a">On Tuesday, I came home and there were paw prints between my carnations, your cat is a menace — he’s devastated the foundations.</p><p id="0488">So, when I tape this flyer to the lamppost, once again, I wonder if you’re aware that your cat is now a mother hen.</p><p id="4979">She, initi

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ally thought to be he, has given birth in my potting shed, seven kittens and your cat are now defecating in my flower bed.</p><p id="6246">I don’t know who you are or where you reside, but the black cat in my garden has trampled flowers that were very much alive.</p><p id="be6b">However, my children now love her and her little black clones, I’m wondering if you even exist, or if you just let her roam.</p><p id="d159">Whatever the answer, she’s made a home in my garden, I’ll be there, picking up the cat poo that’s been hidden to harden.</p></article></body>

To the Owner of the Black Cat

An open letter of encouragement.

Photo by mari yer on Unsplash

To the owner of the black cat who sits in my garden, ever wondered what happens to cat poo, when it’s left to harden?

It sits in the hot sun, and my children want to investigate, ‘why is it white?’ they ask. It’s going to ruin the flower bed at this rate.

On Tuesday, I came home and there were paw prints between my carnations, your cat is a menace — he’s devastated the foundations.

So, when I tape this flyer to the lamppost, once again, I wonder if you’re aware that your cat is now a mother hen.

She, initially thought to be he, has given birth in my potting shed, seven kittens and your cat are now defecating in my flower bed.

I don’t know who you are or where you reside, but the black cat in my garden has trampled flowers that were very much alive.

However, my children now love her and her little black clones, I’m wondering if you even exist, or if you just let her roam.

Whatever the answer, she’s made a home in my garden, I’ll be there, picking up the cat poo that’s been hidden to harden.

Poem
Poetry
Humour
Cats
Satire
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