The Cat Witch of St Helens

The Cat Witch of St Helens

You’ve heard of serendipity. Well, this is Jessindipity!

My name is Jessie, I’ve one eye,
But there’s nothing wrong with me.
I catch more rats than other cats,
With twice as much to see.

I like to stretch upon the couch,
Or find a sunny spot.
I thought my family loved me,
But now I’m not so sure they do a lot.

I bring them breakfast every day,
The finest I can find.
A rat or two, some little mice,
You’d think that I was kind.

But everybody’s moaning,
They wouldn’t even taste it.
I’d caught a lovely meal for them,
And watched my mummy waste it.

So I ate what I could manage,
And left them some for later.
You’d think with all this fuss they make,
They’d hired a private waiter.

They come down every morning,
And see food on the floor.
Then out comes the disinfectant,
And they scrub and scrub some more.

They moan about the blood and tails,
And whiskers by the door.
It’s never done me any harm,
To eat dinner off the floor.

They feed me something from a tin,
Then turn their nose up at mine.
I’ve brought them something fresh today,
But still they won’t sit down and dine.

First they put one bell on me,
Then thought they’d try out two.
Now I ring like Father Christmas,
Whatever I might do.

My bells ring out along the hall,
You ought to hear the sound.
But still I bring the dinner home,
The finest rats around.

Then mummy said, “You’re grounded,”
And firmly locked my flap.
I waited till they went to bed,
And finished off my nap.

I pushed and pushed against the door,
Until I heard it crack.
Then closed it ever so gently,
And slipped out round the back.

Next morning they searched everywhere,
Beneath the beds and chairs.
The flap was shut, but I was gone,
I wasn’t even upstairs.

But when I tried to come back home,
I couldn’t get back in.
I sat outside and shouted,
And made an awful din.

They sat inside all laughing,
While I was out there screaming.
I knew they’d had enough of me,
And guessed what they were scheming.

At last I got back through the flap,
And left mice on the floor.
That’s when they saw the damage,
I’d done to my little door.

I’ve tried to talk in Catonese,
But you don’t understand.
I’ve shouted at you loudly,
Much louder than a brass band.

I even spoke to Nana,
The woman I can’t stand.
I hoped that she would side with me,
And smack my mummy’s hand.

But Nana sided with my mum,
Despite the things I did.
She heard about my lovely meals,
And said, “You’d best get rid.”

Get rid of me? Their clever cat?
My hunting’s far from done.
There’s rats beneath our backyard grid,
I haven’t caught each one.

And now they’ve had a family vote,
They really want me gone.
They never asked for my reply,
But I shall give them one.

You’ve started calling me a witch,
Well, maybe that’s what I am.
If you refuse the food I bring,
You can live on bread and jam.

You think you’ve got the answers,
You’ve got it all wrapped up.
Perhaps you’ll try the dog zone next,
And buy yourselves a pup.

But lock that cat flap up again,
I’ll find my way back in.
For don’t you know a witch’s cat,
Will always, always win?

I’ll fly back on my witch-cat broom,
Beneath the silver moon.
And if I cannot use the flap,
I’ll find another way in soon.

I’ll come down through the chimney,
Like Father Christmas does.
You’ll hear my bells above your heads,
And know just who it was.

So if you try to rehome me,
You still will never win.
I’ll always find my way back home,
To the house that I live in.

The above poem is a true story about my daughters’s cat Jessy who now only has one eye after a cancer operation.