I am a 12 year old black cat who lives in Austin, TX. I was born in Miami, FL, where I first met up with my mom. She was about to move to Texas, and at that time had just one cat, my brother Socrates. But she knew that living alone, and attending grad school, Socrates would need some company. That's where I come in!

I was just a wisp of a kitten at the time, and suckered mom into taking me in, just a few weeks before she moved to Austin! Of course, the trip across the country with mom and her grumpy father wasn't much fun, but once we got here, I set up shop quickly, and I rule with an Iron Fist. It's called intimidation!

Here it is! You've been waiting for it! The 700 page novel, a collaborative work in progress! Da credit must go to Cindy Swafford an her kitties, including Binky (and be sure to let me know if I should credit any other kitty!) for getting this started. I'm not sure which kitties originally contributed to this work, but as I'm sure you'll all agree, it's a most FINE literary work!

DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance between yours truly and the heroine of the story is actually coincidental!

Once upon a time there was a furry furry niz cat. She lived in a house wif a furry furry niz d*g and two hoomins. Hur name wuz Persefunny, the d*g wuz called Speckles, and the two hoomins wuz Meowmie and Pawpaw.

Persefunny din't eber go inna out cuz there wuz trees and wudz all around the house. She wuz skeered of the out and dint wanna get lost in the wudz.

Speckles went inna out alla time and wuz always telling Persefunny how niz it wuz inna out, but she dint believe him none.

Eberyday, the two hoomins would get inna metalmonster and leave for a long time. Wen dey came back, dey smelled like the out and like coffee and like newspapers and like other hoomins. Persefunny always wondered were dey went.

Wun day, da hoomins left a window open so dat da kitties kud get inna Out iffin dey wanted tu. Efun do it skeered her furry much, Persefunny 'sided tu see da Out. First, she satted onna window fingy an luked arownd. It wuz furry beg an skeered, but dere wuz a rily gud smell inna air. With wun nimbul hop she wuz inna Out and she saw...

. . . a grate big hyooj ofurturnd can of Pounciez! She went up to it an' ate wun uv da pounciez. She thawt dat Out must bee hevvin! So Persefunny crawld into da can an ate an ate an ate. Alluvasudden, she hurd a loud BANG! Win she lukd up she realized dat da can uv Pounce had shut an she wuz stuk! She dinna no wut to du. As Persefunny turnd toward da bak of da can, she saw a long tunnel dat didn't seem to end. She slowly enturd. Aftur takin a few stepz, she lukd bak and noticed dere waz no way out agin! So she decided to keep walkin. She walkd fur wut musta been hourz, nonstop. Finally Persefunny wuz just tu tird. She sat down and curld up into a ball. Rite as she wuz driftin off to dreemland, she hurd a noise. She jumped up with a start an lukd all around. Convincin hurself she hurd nuthin, she spun to fas da othur direcshun. At furst, she wuzn't consernd. Den she realizd she wuz standin face to face wif . . .

. . . Speckles!! How did Speckles get inna can uv Pounciez? Speckles iz too big for the can. Persefunny bumped noses wif Speckles and mewed,"where iz we? were iz meowmie? were is pawpaw? how did you get in the can of Pounciez??"

Speckles rumbled back at Persefunny . . . "Woof! No can of Pounciez. BIG box of d*ggie treats. Why are you in my d*ggie treats?"

They wer very confuseded. They snuggled close togevver and luked all around furry careful-like. Were wuz they?

Suddenly, right in front of dem was a grate big meen luking dawg wif giant fangs and beedy eyes. this dawg didn't luk ennyfing like Speckles. it had a big old tung that was stiking out of it's mouf and liddle drops ob wadder stuff was dripping off ob that tung...and a low grrrrrrrrrr sound was coming frum way deep in this dawg. well, Persefunny was so skared that she din't no what to do. she kwikly luked behind tu see if there was a way to scape but no, the tunnel was close off at that end and she had no where tu go cept strait at the meen luking dawg. then suddenly she hab idea...aha, she say. she close hur eyes and take a big breaf and then she . . .

BREATHEDED TOONA POUNCY BREATH RIGHT AT HIM! The big meen d*g jist gasped once and fell rite over. Persefunny wuz glad she had fot so hard wen meowmie tried to tak her to TEDs to get hur teef cleaned.

"Come on, Speckles! We gotz to get out of here befur the big meen d*g wakes up!!"

Dey ran and runneded until they coodn't run no more. They wuz under a big tree and the woodz wuz dark all around them. They dint eben no wich way wuz back anymore. Persefunny wuz skeered and curld up under Speckles tummy. Speckles looked out into the trees and said, "I think there's a lite over there. Wanna go that way?"

Before Persefunny cud answer, dere wuz a hoot from somewhere far far above dem. Dis big ole owl blinked down at her and hooted again. Den it flew down and landed on duh gwound not far away. "Hooo are yooo?" He asked.

"I... Ize Persefunny," she sed slowly. "Diz iz mi d*ggie fren Specklez. Ware iz we, Mr. Big Ole Owl? We wuz in da OUT at my hous jus a wile ago and now weze lostid!" A teer ran down hur furry cheek.

The big owl lookd at Persefunny in da eye. "Do yoo rilly want tu no ware yu iz?" Persefunny and Specklez bof noddid. "Thu troof is yu ar furry far frum yurownhouz. In fact, yu iz in da land of Fantapet."

Persefunny wuz confoosed. "Wut iz Fantapet, Mr. Big Ole Owl?"

"Fantapet is a land ware animalz hav taken ofur, Persefunny. Not many animalz no about Fantapet. But yoo and Specklez were speshully chosen to come to Fantapet as ambassadors. When yu return to your home, you will tell all your kitty n d*ggie frenz about Fantapet. They must no about this land ware they can be free frum hoominz and rule the wurld like they iz sposed to." And with that, the owl took off, flying deep into the forest.

"What was he talkin bout, Specklez?" Persefunny asked. "And what iz we gonna do now??"

Once upon a noontime cheery, While I slumbered weak and weary,
Beside a garden, on top a quiet and cool sidewalk, a concrete floor,
While I nodded, clearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone rudely rapping, tapping on my concrete floor,
"Tis some human," I mused, "walking on my concrete floor -

Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bright September
And each separate ray of sun wrought its ghost upon the verdure
Eagerly I wished my dinner; - vainly I had hurked a winner
In a contest with my brother - and sorrowed for my lost supper,
For the rare and delectable treat which the angels decreed I devour

Gone from my bowl for evermore.

But a subtle uncertain rustling of wings, yes, bird feathers
Thrilled me! - Filled me with fantastic desires oft' felt before
So that now, accompanied by the beating of my heart,
I opened one eye. "Tis a pigeon, picking upon my concrete floor

I want that bird, and nothing more!"

At once my will grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
Stretching, yawning, awake; the bird no longer I could ignore
And stood, ready to pounce, while he gently continued tapping
Unaware. At once, lest he flee, upon him I made sure
To attach my claws, on those bird feathers, my teeth I sought to bore

Into his neck; his mate to see nevermore.

But here the pigeon at once did flutter, oh, with such a start and mutter,
His wings. The stately pigeon turned to me and with due he did implore
"Fair cat," said he, "I beg set free my humble self
For a nest to feed, so young they need me more
Than you, great huntress." Such blaspheme did make me roar

Your nest, alight, you shall nevermore!

The bird I carried, such will to hurry to my secret hiding spot,
Where I would his death ensure, his feathers strip, in struggle, this war
Between natural enemies. My rage was great, my stomach empty
And this bird, the hunt, a sport for me, for him something more,
So that he struggled, a valiant foe, his courage I could not ignore

But my will was true and sure.

Now the pigeon, sitting lonely in my constant grasp grew heavy,
So that I wearied of his weight, made to confirm my grasp, to assure
My trophy, this fine bird, a snack to tide my unbearable hunger,
Til the sup. Gentle did I set the bird on the concrete floor,
His life, he saw, another chance to affirm before

My grip his death brought evermore.

He flew! That insolent bird, from my grasp, to the sun
Clear and straight, his fear of me from him gone for evermore,
And turned, from the sky, to my sorrow he did decry "Fair cat be sure
A better grip on the morrow," and turned, gone! My trophy, my reward!

That fine bird I would see nevermore.

Shall I compare thee to a garden of nip?
Thou are more lovely and more enticing.
Rough winds do shake those leaves which so easily rip,
And catnip's pleasures hath all too short a trip.
Sometimes too intense the essence of nip attracts,
And often the leaves are dried
by big corporations, so that the pleasure does not die.
But thy eternal intoxication shall not fade,
As long as a premium diet art thou'st fed.
Nor shall TED brag thou wandr'st into his grip
if thou scratcheth him as he makes the fleas to dip.

So long as cats can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, this is my love for thee.

Poetry for Cats: The Definitive Anthology of Distinguished Feline Verse. Henry Beard. New York: Villard Books, 1994.

Every once in a while, a book comes along that makes a cat stop and take notice. Often it's because it is currently occupying our humans' time, time that is better spent on us. But in that rare case when it is a book meant to entertain and enlighten us cats, it is a cause for celebration. And when it is a book of such high literary quality as Poetry for Cats, then the celebrations must be loud and accompanied by much joyful hurking.

Poetry for Cats is a collection of poetry of the ages, ranging from some of the earliest poetry in recorded catdom ("Grendel's Dog" from Beocat) to modern offerings by such distinguished cats as Wallace Stevens' Cat, with "The Emperor of the Tunafish."

One of the things that struck this reviewer deeply while reading this learned volume, was the commonality of kitty experience throughout history. How many of us cannot relate to the following from "The Cat's Tale" by Geoffrey Chaucer's Cat, in which the tailless cat is subjected to her human's whims of folly to take a cat on holiday:

He longed to bringe on pilgrimage his pette,
But Puss bigan to fussen and to frette
When that she sawgh the leathern hond-luggage
In which she was yschlept when on viage;

A masterpiece of English Cat literature, presented by Shakespeare's Cat, vividly describes one of the most enduring themes in cat literature:

To go outside, and there perchance to stay
or to remain within: that is the question:

The struggle between the desires of the cat to have mastery of his environment, and the physical reality that his human has created an impediment to those desires, enthralls the reader with the simplicity and timelessness of its theme.

In addition to many of the great works of cat history, Beard also collected several modern offerings. One of the more heartwrenching comes from Allen Ginsburg's Cat:

I saw the best kittens of my litter abandoned by humans,
feral delirious rabid,
propelling themselves through the calico weeds in over-
grown railyards, searching for a catnip hit

The hopelessness of life for street cats has rarely been more immediately realized!

And finally, as must happen to us all, the Rainbow Bridge awaits us at the terminus of our journey through life. But that does not mean that we have to cross the bridge without kicking and screaming, as Dylan Thomas' Cat relates:

Old cats who have no wish to sleep just yet,
And plan to live another life or two,
Hide, hide, when your appointment time is set.

And though your human sweetly calls his pet,
Or rants and raves until his face is blue,
Do not go peaceable to that damn vet,
Hide, hide, when your appointment time is set.

For a human, Mr. Beard exhibits a fine sympathy for the lives and experiences of cats, and has put together a remarkable collection of verse that is sure to please.

I must insist you get your human to run, RUN to the bookstore and get this book. Make them read it to you, time and again. Make sure they feed you first. Savor the tuna juice of the poetry. Then hurk a good one to show your pleasure.