I was delighted to receive an email from gentle reader Mongoose, following on from You are old, Father William last time, about a conversation she had had with her cat Heidi. I reproduce it below with permission.
"You are old, Fräulein Heidi," the Mongoose said,
"In human years, fivescore and ten;
Yet my shoulder you make your precarious bed -
Do you think you're a kitten again?"
"In my youth," said the cat, as she washed her small form,
"I was happy to sleep on the fence;
But it's not very soft and it's not very warm,
So I think I've developed some sense."
"You are old," said the Mongoose, "my sweet little petal,
And often throw up when you fret;
Then how have you stayed in such excellent fettle
That you're never in need of the vet?"
Miss Heidi considered, and said, "On the whole
I think it's a question of diet;
It's excellent food that you put in my bowl,
But I do like a mouse on the quiet."
"You are old," said the Mongoose, "and once on a time
From danger you'd swiftly take flight;
So why is it now, though you're well past your prime,
You're perfectly willing to fight?"
"In my youth," said the cat, "I will freely admit
That I was rather easy to scare;
But I've now turned the tables - the biter is bit.
Good grief, don't you think that that's fair?"
"You are old," mused the Mongoose, "and like any cat
I know that you're partial to heat;
But you sit on the heater, and why doesn't that
Burn your stomach, your tail or your feet?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,
And only because it was you.
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll pee in your shoe!"