Category Archives: Cat

Paddles (the cat) and Gareth Morgan (the ass.) Paddles, the NZ Prime Ministers cat has been run over. Gareth, a wannabe politician, HATES cats, feral or otherwise. So he showed no sympathy, perhaps brutally so.

Rich Reward.

Farewell Paddles, you short lived cat,
Only grumpy Gareth takes much joy in that;
Not for Morgan a moments diplomatic pause,
No, out comes his dogma, out come the claws.

No thought of how those words stung.

When Gareth’s time on this mortal coil ends
And up towards Heaven he (hopefully) ascends,
Will he see Paddles lounging atop the Pearly Gates?
How to explain to St Pete cats are one of his pet hates?

Say, Gareth, cat got your tongue?

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Election time in New Zealand- neither Labour and National can govern without the help of the third minor party, New Zealand First, of which Winston Peters has loooooong held court. Now red and blue have to appease and appeal to Winston.

Rooting Around At Animal Farm.

Jacinda’s labouring to muster a grin
After a rough election night,
But if you think Bill’s celebrating with Win
You’d only be half right.

She seems sad today but she’s still young and green;
Tomorrow she won’t look as glum,
For three years hence she should be queen;
Then the princesses time will come.

In winning Bill still looks like a beaten dog
While Winston smirks like the Cheshire cat,
If the cost of victory means kissing the frog
Jacinda is grateful to Bill for sparing her that.

The story of a crazy cat; to the end she always did things her way. Her tale is told in true chronological order. Farewell, truly weird one.

Heaven Scent.

It was on the last day of the year
That our old cat chose to disappear,
After fifteen years that decrepit old feline
Had used up more lives than her allotted nine.

No more will we see of her,
No longer hear that resounding purr,
Never again will I seek out my comfy chair
Only to discover silly old Lily ensconced there.

Lately we’ve had to be both swift and vigilant;
She seemed to not care where she ‘went,’
She has gone, off to make her Maker,
Will He turn His nose up or take her?

Hell Cat.

Well, that old cat has proved me wrong,
She’s come back, like a bad pong,
Seven days away and I walk through the gate
And there’s the cat I’d thought was late.

I thought I’d seen a tortoiseshell ghost,
My trembling hand clutched the gatepost,
But then jubilation replaced the fear-
She was thin, hungry, but here.

Some say she’d simply beaten long odds,
I think its a canny and clever act of Gods;
He WILL make room for our incontinent old pet
But He’ll let her piss us around for a bit yet.

Third And Final Act For The Cat.

‘Twas late Winter and mighty cold
When at 10pm our cat, mighty old,
Informed us loudly she wanted out of here-
Best let her out, lest she dampen the atmosphere.

She plodded into a night so chill and black
I thought after a few minutes she’d be back,
But when I switched on our blazing security light
Of our old familiar cat there neither sign nor sight.

But we’d been caught out by her before,
Two or three days, she may be back at our door;
We’ll give it a week, and if then we’ve not seen her
‘Twill be with heavy heart I’ll put away the wet-vac cleaner.