I come bearing gifts, human.

We have a stray cat that we adopted this last fall.  We named her Tuna because it was the only thing that we had to feed her at the time.  I like it.  It's a different name and I think it's a cute name for a cat.  Tuna is a very funny kitty.  She's super affectionate and loves to play.  I think a poem about her was bound to happen sooner or later.  She's gotten in to a bad habit of bringing us "gifts" though.  Mice are one thing, because they can get under the house and can be pests, but lately she's been catching birds.  Which aren't necessarily fun to clean up.  Feathers EVERYWHERE.  Anyway, here is a poem that I wrote about my pet cat, Tuna.  :-)

I come bearing gifts, human.

My cat named Tuna

Has a very bad proclivity.

With all other cats

She shares this activity.

She leaves me gifts

Of things that are dead.

                                            Why can’t she play

With her toy mice instead?

Feathers and heads,

Beaks, wings, and tails.

Fur, fuzz, and fluff

And mouse’s entrails.

What is it within

Her little cat mind

That makes her believe

Dead things are just fine

As a gift to present

To the hand that feeds her?

                                    What a strange thing, indeed

My kitty cat creature.

She takes pride

In her offering and present.

She finds it most superb

And rather quite pleasant.

What else can I do?

But just say, “Thank you, kitty.

The dead gift is sweet.

It’s really quite pretty.”