Catwords: Olivia's Secret Passage
BY CRYSTAL DINGLER
She's laid-back and graceful, with sleek black fur.
A lady to her claw-tips, regal, that's her.
She purrs for the children, follows bling on a string,
A fine cat for the Library, friendly's her thing.
But after her treats, when the room goes dark,
She leads poor Waldo away on a lark.
She's found a dark passage, along a low shelf.
Take a moment to search and you'll find it yourself.
They make for this spot, in a leap down they go,
And slip through the archway, to the Library Below.
There are treats by the bucket and mice that go "squeek",
Plush toys and cushions, and birds with long beaks.
There are planters of catnip and crates of fine litter,
They'll chase feather boas, then wear them to dinner.
They'll scramble and skitter, and flitter their tails.
They even read stories on riding the rails.
They know all the answers, they Google™ and sort,
They've read about cooking and gardening and sport.
And, nights when it's quiet, they rest on huge books,
And absorb all the moves of kings, bishops and rooks.
And if, passing by, you hear late night sounds
Of mice and men, and Clarabelle clowns,
Of cats after ribbons in a slither and bound,
Of faint marching feet under crepe paper crowns,
You'll know that Olivia has slipped down again
To the depths of the Library, with Waldo, her friend.
Then, in the morning, when you come by,
Their fur will be smoothed, their feet clean of pie,
And if they're worn out, you'll always know why,
They've been down the passage, in a dream, on a sigh.
