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To go outside, and there perchance to stay Or remain within: that is the question: Whether ‘tis better for a cat to suffer The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather That Nature rains on those who roam abroad, Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet, And so by dozing melt the solid hours That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time And stall the dinner bell. To sit, to stare Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state A wish to venture forth without delay Then when the portal's opened up, to stand As if transfixed by doubt. To prowl; to sleep; To choose not knowing when once more Our readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball; For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob, Or work a lock, or slip a window-catch And going out, and coming in, were made As simple as the breaking of a bowl, |
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What cat would bear the household's petty plagues The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom, The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears, The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks The fur is heir to, when, of his own free will He might his exodus, or entrance make With a mere mitten? Who would spaniel's fear, Or strays trespassing from a neighbors yard, But that the dread of our unheeded cries And scratches at the barricaded door No claws can open up, dispel our nerve And makes us rather bear our human's faults Than run away to un-guessed miseries? Thus caution doth make house cats of us all; And thus the bristling hair of resolution Is softened up with the pale brush of thought, And since our choices hinge on weighty things, We pause upon the threshold of decision.
-- Author Unknown
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