Cat Tracks

Another of my Dad's favourite stories:

“’Twas a bright and sunny summer day,”

He told me with a grin.

“And so I thought I’d clean the car

And get some ‘tuning’ in.”

“But when my fiddling all was done

From the drive, I backed the car,

I realized I’d spilled some gas,

Left a puddle on the tar.”

“Just then, my neighbour stopped to chat.

(He does that now and then.)

To share with me the latest news

Of neighbourhood and glen.”

“Meanwhile: my cat had watched my chore,

As only a cat can do.

And quick, went to investigate

That icky pool of goo.”

“He sniffed, then tasted; lapped a bit,

Though it made his two eyes pop,

Before I could do anything,

He’d lapped up every drop!”

Aaaand go!

“My friend and I watched, horrified,

As my cat began to run.

For ‘most an hour he laboured on,

Ran circles in the sun.”

“And then, quite sudden, simply stopped,

And flopped down on his side.”

“Good grief!” said I. “How horrible!

Are you telling me he died?”

Again that grin, that slow, sly wink,

That nod and touch of sass.

“No, dear,” he told me, cheerily,

“He’d just run out of gas!”