Lawrence Hall
[email protected]Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Pushkin the Poetic Cat
Long, lean, and lanky, he slithers like a snake
In blue-grey fur; he makes the mousies quake
But I haven’t seen him in several days
He roams the woods and fields, he hunts, he strays
He’s proud and brave, my handsome Russian Blue -
Did he cross claws with a treacherous Chartreux?
Did they exchange hisses at just ten paces
Does his little corpse lie in wild snowy spaces?
I hope his life hasn’t ended like that
For I very much miss my dear little cat