They call them pussy-willows,
But there’s no cat to see
Except the little furry toes
That stick out on the tree:
I think that very long ago,
When I was just born new,
There must have been whole pussy-cats
Where just the toes stick through---
And every Spring it worries me,
I cannot ever find
Those willow-cats that ran away
And left their toes behind!
Poem by Margaret Widdemer, published in 1928.
10
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Posted by RobertNappi2Tuesday morning cuteness...That time of the year
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Posted by LaurenI thought this was an accurate representation of how we feel every time we remember our last cat, which happens often when my daughter and I laugh over our current cat's antics.
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