A PERSIAN KITTY

A Persian Kitty, perfumed and fair,
Strayed through the kitchen door for air,
When a Tom Cat, lean and lithe and strong
And dirty and yellow came along.

He sniffed at the perfumed Persian Cat,
As she strutted about with much eclat,
And thinking a bit of time to pass
He whispered, "Kiddo, you're sure some class."

"That's fitting and proper," was her reply,
As she arched a whisker over her eye.
"I'm ribboned; I sleep on a pillow of silk
And daily they feed me on certified milk.

"But we're seldom content with that which we've got,
I try to be happy but happy I'm not.
I should be joyful, I should indeed,
For I certainly am highly pedigreed."

"Cheer up," said the Tom Cat, with a smile,
"And trust your new friend for a while.
You need to escape from your back yard fence.
What you're in need of is — experience."

New joys of living he then unfurled,
As he told her tales of the outside world,
Suggesting at last—with a luring laugh—
A trip for two—down the Primrose Path.

The morning after the night before
The cat came home at the hour of four,
The innocent look in her eyes had went
But the smile on her face was the smile of content.

And in the after days when the children came
To the Persian Kitty of pedigreed fame,
They weren't Persian, they were black and tan,
And she told them their Pa was a traveling man.