There’s a Cat at the Door and He Better Be Good

The clock says mid-night and still I lie awake

The day long, now tossing to the light of a full

moon. The cat won’t stay inside. He’s carousing

down at the pond. Coyotes have been sighted. My

mind plays a game, if he doesn’t come back

I’ll be so sad, if he does, I’ll never sleep again.

There’s a cat at the door and he better be good.

He’s back, meowing and scratching the screen

I won’t let him in and I can’t sleep. At last I get

up. Fuming I open the door, shoot a spray of water.

He darts under the lawn chair. In bed, eyes shut,

thinking naively I’ve taken care of the problem. 

He’s back at it as soon as I doze. Heart pounding,

I grab the water. Round two. I shoot a three blasts,

but in the wrong direction. I get myself.

There’s a cat at the door and he better be good.

Tonight I will sleep. He’s going in the crate.

No pond carousing, no frogs and mice, no picking

at the screen after mid-night. My cat, I love him so,

his black tuxedo outfit, his wide bright eyes. I saw

it in his face this morning his dismay over my betrayal.

Still he curls next to me, purring like a best friend.