A Little Night Music

My wife and I purr, evenings, When the red fire is lit. The cat is the only spectator To the enmity we knit.

We, the indigenous felines, Whiskered and pompous and grey, Lap up the placid content Of our malicious day.

"I ate the meat for your dinner And the sweet cat had the bones." "I took your furs to the pawnshop And exchanged them for trifling loans."

"The sweet cat has worms in his belly. I've left it for you to cope." "Your three bridge partners are dying, And the doctors have given up hope."

The red fire is glowing lesser As we pat each other's cheeks. She puts out the tall milk bottles, I take off my boots and breeks.

But the sweet cat is discontented With himself, with me, with her, And we hear him the whole of the night-time Trying to learn to purr.