The Crat

The Crat (For Barney)

Dave, my old friend, had for years been away,

Caricaturing in Europe somewhere;

And on returning, he’d no place to stay,

No money, no food, no clean underwear.

The DHSS told him, when he applied,

“Come back in three months”, denying his claim;

As such, he was homeless; sleeping outside,

With only a bag of soiled clothes to his name.

Reclining his head on that pillow, he lay,

Underneath salvaged damp cardboard each night;

Passing the time in the library by day,

Catching sleep, stolen by winter with spite;

And as for eating, though he never said,

I’d hazard to guess: he begged for his bread.

Be that as it may; a charity gave

Him a sleeping bag, with kindly intent,

Though a tent would’ve been better, said Dave;

No matter; that night, to the farm he went,

Where lately, he’d taken to sleeping up close

To a cowshed, from which heating flowed free;

Enough to take the edge off winter’s blows;

A Godsend, at least to one such as he.

Snuggled-up-tight, and on the point of sleep,

He dreamily observed a cat, close by,

Cautiously approaching, as if to peep

At the heap that looked to be warm and dry,

And which Dave was more than happy to share

With a cat, as a child would a Teddy Bear.

I wish I could say he befriended the cat,

But alas, that would be mere fantasy;

The cat was more like a very LARGE rat!

A rodent wild beast, in reality…

…But as for what Dave was forced to endure,

I’ll leave it to your imagination;

Urging you on to the caricature

Of a hybrid of rat and cat persuasion,

Surprising a lonely destitute soul,

Like a jump-scare, in a horror-film scene;

If only the creature could have been whole;

A cat, not a rat, nor something between:

Companionship is a mutual need,

Albeit doomed to remain unfulfilled;

More equally mutual, fear takes the lead,

The caricature heads back to the field,

And the human, in want of a cuddle,

Gathers his things and leaves in a muddle.