In the company of cats 

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Four photos are in this image of the author’s cats which are orange and white, one has blue eyes and one has yellow.
The eyes? Stunning. The hair? Luxurious. The nose? Boopable. Nazeemah Noorally

A bond unlike any other

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With whiskers that twitch, eyes gleaming like jewels in the night, 

The feline muse brings the writer’s pen to light. 

Cats’ grace and beauty, so regal and sleek, 

A muse that writers eagerly seek. 

 

They hold a mysterious aura, projecting it well, 

Giving away nothing; their secrets, won’t tell. 

They stay still for the perfect shot; not a fuss, and then 

They move on into their den. 

 

When the moment calls for peace, 

And all the noise begins to cease, 

The cats nap all day, in a slumber so deep. 

A catnap here and a catnap there, 

They wake up refreshed, without a care. 

 

And, when they dream, we can’t help but wonder, 

What images in their minds they do conjure? 

Perhaps it’s giant mice they are chasing, 

Their paws peddling as they are racing 

Through their dreams, just like we do, 

Storing memories and events with a dreamy view. 

 

Majestic creatures, the feline royalty, 

With regal poise they roam so freely, 

Their piercing gaze and silky fur 

Make them a sight so grand and pure. 

 

Yet there’s one thing that makes them wary, 

A liquid foe that’s quite contrary. 

Water, a force they cannot withstand, 

A splash and they’ll run to hide at its command. 

 

Ginger, Siamese, British short or long hair, 

Different breeds, but some traits they share: 

Viewing the world around, like a ruler they stand, 

Bringing half-dead birds or mice, a gift so grand. 

 

Their ears are attuned to sounds far and near, 

They hear what we miss, sounds that are unclear. 

A rustle in the grass, a bird in the sky, 

A sound we ignore but that they can’t deny. 

 

Though small and tame the housecat may seem, 

Their wilder cousins are a different dream. 

Tigers and lions with a majestic grace, 

That leaves us in awe of their powerful pace. 

 

Their hunting instincts I witness each day, 

Toy mice and strings, their prey they slay. 

Pouncing and stalking with glowing eyes on the prize, 

A wild instinct even in domesticated guise. 

 

With sharpened claws and restless paws 

Our feline friends need a place to pause, 

A post to scratch, a spot to climb. 

They’ll squeeze and curl, snug in tight 

To spaces we never noticed in sight. 

 

Their paws, like velvet, tread with care, 

And when they pause their noses are aware 

Of every scent that lingers in the air, 

A world of wonder that they love to share. 

 

Those who cherish felines, they understand the stage. 

We’re not the boss, we’re just their human slaves 

To open cans of tuna, and to fill their bowl, 

So they can rule their kingdom, in full control. 

 

But oh, the joy these furballs bring to our lives, 

Their playful antics and comforting vibes. 

Their agile grace and cunning moves we adore, 

A sight that never ceases to leave us wanting more. 

 

Though they can be aloof and ignore for weeks 

With their purrs and paws so soft and sweet, 

They knead and make biscuits with might, 

Approaching us and bumping heads with such delight. 

 

They may not bark or wag their tails, 

But they have their own special tales 

Of loyalty, affection, and of trust, 

And a special bond that’s truly a must. 

 

Independent creatures who love their space, 

Adventurous and curious with a wild grace. 

Treat them well and they’ll be your friend, 

A companion for life – until the very end. 

 

So, if you’re feeling a little bit blue, 

Or if life’s lately got you feeling askew, 

Just find some cats and spend some time 

And you’ll feel better; that’s the feline. 

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