An Ode to Zoe

Our Zoe is an action cat,
A delicate eater and hence not fat.
A light-weight Seal Point Siamese,
She runs and jumps and climbs with ease.

She often follows me around,
And it seems she can’t stay on the ground.
Up she’ll hop into my lap,
For petting and cuddling, she’s a sap.
She’ll butt her head into my nose,
And then assume an awkward pose,
For napping in a sweet repose.

Even now as I write this poem,
Zoe’s declared my lap as home.
She likes to lay upon my hand,
So I can’t write, she thinks this grand.
But she’ll jump down in such a huff,
If I insist on doing my stuff.

Computer keyboards she can’t resist,
Though admonished she won’t desist.
When she’s hungry she’ll scratch the door,
As if to say, “It’s time for more.”

A bit of butter she likes to lick,
But she won’t take more, it might make her sick.
Sometimes when I pass a kitchen chair,
Her little paw swats through the air.

Zoe thinks she has it made,
If she can hide behind a shade.
A laser spot moved on the wall,
She’ll chase just like a little ball.

In the morning her favorite thing,
Is to chase and catch an apron string.
Now Zoe takes such special care,
To cover our clothes with her hair.

One thing we think it’s fun to do,
Is deriving names for her anew.
Like Zoa, Zozeeza, Zo-Zo, or Zo,
But I’m told Shmahooha is a definite no.

At bedtime Zo wants under the sheet,
To cuddle with Elaine, it’s all so sweet.
By tapping ‘laines nose so gentile-y,
Zo signals her need for enter-y.
Positioned just so, it must strictly be!
Thus Zoa sleeps all through the night,
Until the sun brings morning light.

Ronald P. Milito
© February 5, 2008