Fagan

Tonight she sleeps in a cardboard box,

Seven babies all snuggled in safe and sound,

But not long ago, she herself was not safe,

As she roamed the streets and parking lots,

Looking for food or shelter, or both.

We caught her in a convenience store lot,

Brought her home gave her care and fixed up a box.

Sweet little grateful kitty, followed us everywhere,

Always underfoot, and always keeping watch.

I think she sees herself as the overseer of our little farm.

Sitting on fence posts she swatted at the horses,

If they dared to come too close,

Or jumped on our shoulders as we fed, watered and cleaned.

And now, her little box is full, of squirmy, squeaky kittens

And she eats till her belly if full,

She looks at us and wants her babies admired

Then she purrs and eats some more!

(And just in case there may be any doubt,

As soon as the babies are weaned and have homes,

Sweet little vagabond, Fagan will go,

To a spay appointment with my friend the vet.)