I wrote this for my now fiance not long after we first started seeing each other after her love for cats (and her tongue in cheek insistance she was one) inspired me to start writing again, after maybe 5 years of not picking up a pen.  I recently proposed to her through a series of short poems taking us on a treasure hunt around Edinburgh looking for J K Rowling inspired landmarks, but that's another story for another time. 

 

Dear Rebecca, I feel it’s finally time,

To bring up a point that has been on my mind.

You think you’re cat, and I’m here to show,

That it’s not true (which you already know).

 

You wish that you had the silky soft fur,

This is proof, you say, that you have a purr.

And let’s not forget the padded paws,

Finished with those needle claws.

 

The pointed ears and triangle nose,

The slitted eyes, tail like a hose,

‘What more proof do you need?’ you huff in despair,

Whilst curling up to lick your hair.

 

‘I’m known worldwide as ‘Queen of Cats’

Or ‘Cat Master’ or ‘Lady Cat’,

Or ‘Kitty’ or ‘Whiskers’ or ‘Tiddles’ or ‘Puss’,

Which proves my point without a fuss.’

 

‘But wait!’ I say, ‘There are other creatures,

Which also have such distinguishing features.

These markings sound just like Hyena,

They laugh like you but they’re a fair bit meaner.

 

Lions also have these traits,

But Giraffe is never on your plate.

Gerbils and Hamsters are furry to feel,

But I’ve never seen you run on a wheel.’

 

I think, I ponder, I sit and I frown,

Then it dawns on me, Beck you’re a hound!

You’re Canine, the description perfectly fits,

The silk soft fur and other bits.

 

I can take you for walks, in a field, on a beach,

And there isn’t a trick to you I can’t teach.

You can beg, and roll over, even fetch my shoes,

You’re loyal, and loving, soft and cuddly too.

 

Time to accept what you are, it’s all for the best,

You’ll feel so much better with this weight off your chest,

So go drown your sorrows in a boatload of hooch,

And just face the facts that, Becky, you’re a pooch.