-The Alley Cat-
And here I stand in that same familiar, shadowy, alley way.
Waiting on someone to pick me up from the asphalt.
Ive had many owners before.
Yet I was never kept.
Every time, someone looks at me. Some wondering, some in disgust.
My fur shaggy yet when cleaned, beautiful.
I can meow and purr and play like the best of them
Knowing that is what brings them in.
Each time, I'm always seen as cute.
I have a few tricks and it amuses my would be owner.
She performs her best to lure me in
First a small scrap, then some milk, then a nice can of tuna.
I shy at first. Slightly hissing, claws out but in the end I just want to be cared for.
Eventually I give in, hoping that my new home would be better than the street I sleep on.
I follow her and I slowly raise my head in pride.
Each time this happens I think to myself, maybe this is it.
Each time, hoping for someplace warm and happy.
We finally make it and the charade continues.
I'm introduced to a warm place to lay my head and a lovely bowl to eat out of.
A few blissful days go by and I begin to learn more about my owner.
For the happiness she gives me I try my best to reciprocate.
Then one day it happens.
She receives a new puppy.
The puppy has tricks.
It can play fetch, roll over on command and play with her when she wants to go to the park.
First comes the regret.
Then comes the hatred from the parents, constantly asking her why she picked up the stray kitty.
Then come the careless behavior.
"Whoops.", a foot on my paw.
"Sorry.", something falls on my tail.
Eventually I am forgotten.
Eventually I cease to exist.
I become yet a memory.
I'm not fun anymore.
So one day I'm picked up.
I look around and the place looks familiar.
No longer am I in that warm loving home.
I'm now outside, the rain falls and my coat becomes drenched, but it's fine.
From all the pain of the "careless" acts.
From all the pain of being ignored.
From all the pain of being a second option.
The rain doesn't bother me much.
Rather, the rain is suitable.
The outside personification of the inside emotion.
I let my claws down too early and now i'm back.
back in the same place, more broken than before.
So now I can only do one thing.
I let me claws sharpen.
I let my claws grow longer.
I no longer trust that smiling face.
The next child that tries to entice me with catnip, milk or other desires of my heart may be hurt.
Its not so intentional.
I don't want to.
Its what Ive grown to know.
I don't want to know this.
I don't want to feel this.
I just want some happy child to take me in as their pet and never let me go.
And so I sit here.
The rain flowing.
Soaking my fur.
Most of my "nine lives" spent.
This kitten doesn't want to be in the alley any more.
And here I stand in that same familiar, shadowy, alley way.
Waiting on someone to pick me up from the asphalt.
Ive had many owners before.
Yet I was never kept.
Every time, someone looks at me. Some wondering, some in disgust.
My fur shaggy yet when cleaned, beautiful.
I can meow and purr and play like the best of them
Knowing that is what brings them in.
Each time, I'm always seen as cute.
I have a few tricks and it amuses my would be owner.
She performs her best to lure me in
First a small scrap, then some milk, then a nice can of tuna.
I shy at first. Slightly hissing, claws out but in the end I just want to be cared for.
Eventually I give in, hoping that my new home would be better than the street I sleep on.
I follow her and I slowly raise my head in pride.
Each time this happens I think to myself, maybe this is it.
Each time, hoping for someplace warm and happy.
We finally make it and the charade continues.
I'm introduced to a warm place to lay my head and a lovely bowl to eat out of.
A few blissful days go by and I begin to learn more about my owner.
For the happiness she gives me I try my best to reciprocate.
Then one day it happens.
She receives a new puppy.
The puppy has tricks.
It can play fetch, roll over on command and play with her when she wants to go to the park.
First comes the regret.
Then comes the hatred from the parents, constantly asking her why she picked up the stray kitty.
Then come the careless behavior.
"Whoops.", a foot on my paw.
"Sorry.", something falls on my tail.
Eventually I am forgotten.
Eventually I cease to exist.
I become yet a memory.
I'm not fun anymore.
So one day I'm picked up.
I look around and the place looks familiar.
No longer am I in that warm loving home.
I'm now outside, the rain falls and my coat becomes drenched, but it's fine.
From all the pain of the "careless" acts.
From all the pain of being ignored.
From all the pain of being a second option.
The rain doesn't bother me much.
Rather, the rain is suitable.
The outside personification of the inside emotion.
I let my claws down too early and now i'm back.
back in the same place, more broken than before.
So now I can only do one thing.
I let me claws sharpen.
I let my claws grow longer.
I no longer trust that smiling face.
The next child that tries to entice me with catnip, milk or other desires of my heart may be hurt.
Its not so intentional.
I don't want to.
Its what Ive grown to know.
I don't want to know this.
I don't want to feel this.
I just want some happy child to take me in as their pet and never let me go.
And so I sit here.
The rain flowing.
Soaking my fur.
Most of my "nine lives" spent.
This kitten doesn't want to be in the alley any more.
