• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 08

That’s Life

Stanley: I stand sadly, shoulders slumped and wonder where my next meal is coming from
I have been eyeing up the bright birds I can see in their wicker cages
Wondering if knocking them over might create a diversionary storm
Sending my master into a spin, but giving me the chance for a rampage?

Albert: My tummy’s rumbling, my chest is swollen and my breath smells
Not for me a life of green meadows and rollicking and rolling in the sun
Instead I am on guard, watching, waiting, tethered by a bell
To this old rusty kennel, my master calls home, but it sure ain’t fun.

George: All I can do is slouch and sleep, bored, listless, and hungry
I too am waiting but I am disguising it by looking dog-tired
When really, I am a coiled spring, hoping that Stanley next to me,
Will start a ruckus, causing chaos, and help release the food as desired.

Cat Pack: Quick. Look, over there, see who is coming this way?
I don’t like the look of it at all, but how do we stall and keep the faith?
We are guarding the birds too; we need to stay alert to keep the dogs at bay
Using our wiles and wits, to outmanoeuvre any stray wraith.

Bright Birds: We know they are all salivating and eyeing us up as dinner food
But we are smarter than they are, and will stay put in our cages
Making no noise, keeping quiet and calm, reflecting our master’s mood
He’s a good man, a benefactor, not one to fly into rages.

Master: I hope I get a break today and some soul comes by
And admires one of my animal friends: birds, cats or dogs will do
Who knows, there could even be a purchase in it, not for them to die
But for them to be loved, well-fed and given a better life than in my sepia zoo.