A Share Of My Catch

This a sequel to my poem ‘Meow, Meow'. Alone he came and said ‘meow' to my daughter, 'Brownie' we named him In deference to the colour of his hide. Over the months He grew up into a big cat His instincts natural Overtook his scare. He graduated from hunting Flies, insects and flying termites To Cockroaches and lizards Again to squirrels and pigeons Albeit that the hunts were rare and far removed. The first time he hunted down a pigeon, He magestically brought it directly To my daughter and presented it To her with a proud growl. It was she who fed him regularly And he had grown so fond of her That, his first catch, as a matter of gratitude He wished to share with her. That she had not started Dining of raw pigeons Poor Brownie, brown, Had not occurred to him.