As is the Way of All Cats

One of Bud’s descendants

was a gray and black-striped tabby

that was given the name, “Joint.”

Mom always chuckled over his odd name.

In her mind, it was associated with a place…

We told her no differently.

 

Like his mother, Joint did not take too kindly  

to being picked up and held.

He would follow you all over the yard,

tethered to you by an innate curiosity.

Occasional petting was permissible, 

but that misleading cute and cuddly look

was an invitation to be

scratched and clawed

if you dared to pick him up.

  

Joint was a superb ratcatcher

like his mother before him.

Often, he would leave his trophies,

a severed rat’s head, leg, or tail,

at the front doorstep.

I had the grim task of disposing of these gifts

because he was my cat!

Come to think of it,

every cat coming out of Bud

automatically became my cat!

 

Joint was intolerant of any other

toms within his territory,

except for Roger,

an orange and white tabby,

who, unlike Joint,

allowed you to pick him up.

In Joint’s kitty kingdom,

he reigned supreme.

He was the master;

we were the pets,

as is the way of all cats.