scaring the cat

I didn’t intend
the scare the cat,
but I seem to have
and that is that.

She sits there purring
and looking baleful:
if I do it again
there’ll be a jailful

of me, quite unable
to scare gray pussies
even if I wanted,
for she’s no sissy!

It all started
with my sleep apnea;
the doctor prescribed
a mask, CPAP, by name:

it has a hose
and a purring machine:
I sleep more like an alien
than my cat’s ever seen.

She used to sleep
near, on my pillow, in fact;
but now she’s a stranger:
a stay-away cat.

I wonder sometimes
if it’s just the purring
that makes her think CPAP
is something quite foreign.

Or maybe it’s jealousy
makes her think
it’s a robot that sings
as I catch forty winks.

Whatever the cause
it makes me so sad
to be scaring my kitty
’cause I’m her old dad.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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