The pussy cat

Her uncle was a sailor, with language sometimes base.

His favourite trick was to get real close and blow right in her face.

“Bloody windy,” he’d then say to her mother’s vexation.

“You’ll have her saying that word soon,” she’d say in exasperation.

Her mother knew it well and very often said,

“She seems to see things others don’t although just in her head.”

She had a little four legged friend. It was a cat so pretty.

She carried it just everywhere. No-one else could see it.  Pity.

Her uncle saw her sitting quiet and stroking something gently.

Something that he couldn’t see held in her arms so tenderly.

“What you got?” he asked with glee knowing full well what she’d say.

“My pussy cat.” she softly smiled. “I pat him every day.”

“Well I’ve a dog.” her uncle growled,”“and look at what he’s done.

He’s bit your pussy’s tail right off with teeth so sharp and long.

“Oh no, oh no!  The blood, the blood!” and tears flowed in a flood.

Inconsolable she was, “Look at all the blood!”

Tears flowed in rivers down her cheeks. He thought they’d never cease.

Her body shook by great big sobs. He was humbled by his niece.

She grieved uncontrollably. He felt so very bad.

Desperately he looked for help, didn’t want to make her sad.

Her mother caught her brother’s ear and clipped it with her hand.

“Here’s a first aid kit,” she said, passing nothing to the man.

“You’ll have to get some sutures and sew back on that tail.

And take your dog away from here if you don’t want to hear me rail.”

She watched as he pretended to sew the tail back on the cat.

The tears they’d dried upon her cheeks and he was feeling pretty flat.

Her mother hugged her baby girl and whispered in her ear

“Your uncle is an awful tease but we still love him dear.”

She sat there saying nothing with her friend wrapped in her arms.

The blood got mopped; puss’s end was stitched, and the situation calmed. 

When the mess was cleaned and the tail in place and quiet once more reigned,

he used his hankie to wipe her face, then put the sham kit away.

As he mimed the packing of the box she said “Uncle please don’t tease.”

Then warily she looked up at him, “And keep that dog away please.”

He couldn’t help the rumbling laugh escaping from his throat

her imagination was just too much. He really couldn’t cope.

His laughter was the final straw for the child who’d seen too much;

who’d watched her dear poor pussy cat mauled by that vicious mutt.

Her anger found its way right through her usual sweet regard.

“If that bloody dog bloody comes back here I’m gonna smack him bloody hard.”