DOES CURIOSITY ALWAYS KILL THE CAT?

My heart pumps fear through my veins,

bringing me anguish and pains.

Why must I be the curious one?

The one who can’t let the deed be done.

I must follow the noises to the basement,

where something is making an awful statement.

A voice called to me from my rumpled bed.

The sound echoed endlessly in my head.

I descend the stairs to the darkness below.

The noises combine to form a loud bellow.

A hiss hits my ear as claws rake my arm.

​My silly cat thinks I mean him some harm.

I offer soothing words but he wants to flee

just as the door shuts and locks behind me.

The light bulb goes out leaving me in the dark.

Do I now hear a dog’s whimper and shrill bark?

Chills taunt me as I go down the dark stairs,

following the whimpering and stray hairs.

Feathers float in front of me.

I don’t know what this can be.

I step on something squishy and soft.

I find a light and hold it aloft.

I lift my foot and the tail retreats

to the chair where it has hidden treats.

With the bright lantern held high,

I search for the source of a sigh.

My neighbor sits with her panting pals

of the furry sort in guys and gals.

“Am I also welcome to the party?”

I ask the pig-tailed girl, laughing hearty.

She replies, “Of course, you are, my dear neighbor,”

A point she refuses to belabor.

I join the circle on the floor,

as the cats and dogs eat some more.

Cake and cookies for all the guests,

even ones who have been great pests.

My black cat joins in with tail held high,

sniffing at the desserts and brown pie.

At least this story has a happy ending.