Tony And The Turkeys - By Boreegard

       TONY AND THE TURKEYS


When we got back home from Texas,
A few days before Thanksgiving,
Tony—the big Maine Coon cat, 
Who allows us to share our home with him,
Took me aside for a brief conversation.

“You know boss (he calls me boss to make
Me feel good),
That flock of wild turkeys you’ve been
Chucking cracked corn and sunflower seeds at,
Has been making themselves right at home
In your absence.” 

“They’ve pecked the H E double L
Out of Ma’s flowery things, and they’ve been
Strutting in obscene feathery processions,
All through the herb garden. Have they no shame?
Now, what are you going to do about this mess?”

“I can hardly sun myself properly of a warm afternoon,
Or pounce on the occasional high grass vermin,
Which is my catly right and duty, as you well know,
Without those cacophonous gobblers strutting through the yard,
Interrupting my action with their peck peck peckings, 
And their gobbley gobbledy gobblings.” 

I scratched his head, and while he purred away
Like a 14 inch chain saw, I said this to him:
“My dear Tony of the bologna (He doesn’t know what 
Bologna is, but he likes the rhyming sound of it),
That particular flock of tough toms and sweet hens
Is a permanent part of our scene. They are sacrosanct.”

“But you and I will have the ultimate revenge. To celebrate
Thanksgiving, I’ll roast one of their domesticated
Cousins, and we will feast for many days upon its tender flesh.
And of its bones, dear cat, I’ll make a beautiful brown broth,
That we will spoon and slurp and long remember.” 

                                                            Mike O’Neil aka Boreegard