Philomena My Fine Dining Cat
One afternoon as the light grew darker,
I hugged Philomena and then I asked her,
‘Look, I’m really worried you’re growing too fat.
Shouldn’t you just eat a mouse or a rat?’
She arched her long tail as I stroked her white fur,
And stretched on the carpet as she started to purr.
‘How can you say I’m so hard to please.
When all I eat comes from your deep freeze?
It’s time for a change, so it’s fine dining for me,
I want bowls of sea bass in gooey goat’s cheese,
Or delicious duck bones on a bed of sweet peas
Or maybe a thick soup with fresh fish from the sea.’
Philomena stood up and to my dismay,
Said ‘I could quite happily set off today,
Follow my dreams and just run away,
And eat Haddock and Cod and even try Ray.’
Philomena lay down over my feet and my heels.
‘But where will you find such savoury meals,
And similar dishes like lobster and eels?’
Philomena stroked her fine white whiskers,
‘Next door’s Tabby has told me in whispers,
About a restaurant run by a world-famous chef
Who cooks great food that would be good for my health.
And could brighten my eyes and make my teeth sharper.
The Tabby was sure it would turn my tail darker.’
‘That sounds far-fetched,’ I said with a smile.
‘Wouldn’t it better if you stayed here a while,
And won’t you be upset if find you must share,
Fish bones and tails which have been left lying there?’
Later Philomena crawled into next door,
And said to the Tabby ‘Are you certain and sure?
I don’t wish to sound as if I’m nit picking,
And I would like to taste sweet gravy on chicken.
But I spoke to the lady who lives in my house,
Who thinks it would be best if I just ate a mouse.’
‘Utter rubbish,’ said the Tabby and scratched at his ear.
‘Not if you listen to the stories I hear.
Stretch out your paws and I’ll give you a clue,
About the wonderful fish on this chef’s menu.
So, for example he’s got a milk and fish stew,
Made of cod and carp and cuttlefish too.
He fries and serves a fish called sea bream,
Which he cooks for hours just using steam.
Philomena’s stomach was beginning to rumble.
She’d had nothing to eat and was starting to grumble.
‘If I don’t set off now my hopes will just crumble.’
So, once Philomena had made up her mind,
The Tabby called Harry followed on from behind.
Philomena was excited as she slipped under fences,
As cars hurried past and dazzled her senses.
The moon at the end of the road seemed much larger,
As battalions of bats tried to tease and torment her.
But Philomena walked on, and would not be deterred,
From finding the best type of food she preferred.
Harry was worried as he slinked slowly along,
What would happen if she was out all night long?
As moonlight settled in pools in the road
He watched Philomena stop to speak to a toad,
Who under the streetlight positively glowed.
‘Look out,’ he coughed ‘for the ruffian cats.’
His eyes like globes blinking curiously fast,
As his mottled skin melted into the shadows.
But Philomena oblivious to all possible foes
Had only the scent of fine food in her nose.
The end of the road faced the beach and the sea,
Where a blanket of fishermen’s nets used to be.
Boats hurried in to avoid being late,
Loaded with monkfish mackerel and skate.
But enticed by the smells and lying in wait,
Were scores of mad cats who had all lost their way.
Divided by gangs called the Toms and the Strays
Toms with one ear and chewed up thin tails.
The Strays with their scary and hideous wails.
The King of the Toms was known as Slick Sandy
Who could vomit up fur balls made of brandy and candy.
The Chief of the Strays called Bruiser the Bandit,
Had only one eye and always demanded,
The first bite of food that they managed to find.
Many battles were fought between the two gangs,
Outside canteens with bottles and cans.
The howling biting and every terrible screech
Echoed from the streets to the sea past the beach.
The wounded and torn with their low caterwauling,
Frightened even the dogs and sounded appalling.
But the only cat that they dreaded the most,
Was Harry the Tabby who could arrive like a ghost.
It might be a high wall or from inside a bin,
When without warning and into their den,
Harry would appear with a fearsome cry,
And the cats would all flee or at least step aside.
No one and nothing would stand in his way.
Wherever he went he always held sway.
So, you can imagine the predictable scene,
That met Philomena as she stepped in between,
The Toms and the Strays who were fighting to free,
Some fried fish skin that was stuck to a tree.
‘Oooh,’ said Slick Sandy ‘She’ll come with me.’
‘Never,’ said the Bandit from under debris.
The two cats hissed and then started to fight.
When suddenly sprinting having been out of sight
Leaped Harry the Tabby shouting ‘Leave her alone,
Or I’ll batter you both into a heap of old bones.
I’ll roll you around in the dust and the stones,
And all other cats will hear your moans and your groans.’
So, brave Harry the Tabby once again made his mark.
As Slick Sandy and the Bandit crept into the dark,
And crawled under bins in a nearby car park.
Needing to hide when dogs started to bark.
Philomena saw the restaurant just as she glanced,
Amazed at the sight of an army of ants,
Lined up and swaying as they made their way past,
Their legs in a rhythm as if they’d started to dance.
Picking sharp scales from the top of fish heads
And with every step as they carefully tread
In two straight lines with no hint of a sound
Out of her sight to their homes underground.
The restaurant was open, and Harry slipped in
Past jars of cockles and bottles of gin.
He crawled under tables and pushed past the door,
And Philomena started nibbling food left on the floor.
Inside the kitchen her small eyes lit up,
At the scent of the meals, the smells of the soup.
Philomena stared at the fish being served.
She thought to herself, ‘this is what I deserve.’
The waiters would wait and the chefs they would shout.
The diners came in the diners went out.
But all the leftovers were given to swans,
And her wish for a fish on a dish had gone.
Day after day and night after night
Philomena could only feel sad at the sight,
Of all the fine food she had hoped to eat
Being taken past her to customer’s seats.
But then one day and without any warning
Philomena turned up early in the morning,
To find the door locked, and the shutters were shut.
Not a fishbone in sight and no meat to be cut.
Philomena waited and waited for days.
But no one returned and the Toms and the Strays
Knew nothing was left and wandered away.
‘It’s pointless,’ said Harry, ‘there’s no reason to stay,
There’s nothing to eat not even fish food.’
So, the two cats walked off in a serious mood.
‘It’s the last time I’ll see a lovely fish stew.’
But Harry who also loved his food fried,
Said ‘at least you know you really have tried.’
But Philomena turned away and could not be consoled.
‘Never again will I see smoke salmon rolled.’
Then rain came along and made her shiver with cold.
When Philomena returned, I was having a nap.
She jumped up and quietly sat on my lap.
Her fur looked dirty, and she seemed very sad.
‘We thought you had gone and would never come back.
Each night I left out a bowl of fresh milk,
And each morning I saw not a drop had been spilt.
So, I really believed I’d never see you again.’
Philomena explained as she nuzzled my arm,
‘It was an adventure, and I came to no harm.
I’ve sniffed the best food that I’ll ever see,
But now I’ve decided it’s much better to be,
A cat whose dreams had made her feel free.’
So, I watched as Philomena grew old,
Her family of kittens never tired of being told,
Of the battles between the Strays and the Toms
None of whom had a home of their own.
Now all of them lost and long ago gone.
But Harry the Tabby calls in now and then,
Although I am not sure we’ll see him again
I hear he’s made friends with a duck and a hen.
And he’s gone a bit deaf, the poor old thing.
Philomena looked tired and watched the tv,
And as men on a boat hauled in fish from the sea,
She whispered sadly, ‘that was not meant for me.’