It was just about a year ago when he turned up at my door.
Many strays had visited, but I'd not seen him before.
It took a while for us to bond, but we got there in the end.
And now I have a nutty cat that I treat as my best friend.

I don't know where he came from, nor do I really care.
But that's just of his past life, and he can leave it all back there.
He must have had a troubled past that made him run away,
And then become a street cat, living as a stray.

When first he turned up in my yard he looked so cold and sad.
Seeing him out in the rain was making me feel bad.
I would leave some food out for him, but he still looked rather thin.
That left me with no other choice, and so I brought him in.

At first he seemed quite timid, and I knew he was unsure,
So I put some food down in a dish and left it by the door.
It didn't take him very long to make this house his home,
A comfy bed, a dish of food, no longer would he roam.

I went out and bought a cat flap which I fitted in the door.
He soon learnt how to use it, pushed it open with his paw.
This must have been a novelty, and it was fun to watch him play.
He was in and out the cat flap for the best part of the day!

I know just where to find him if he isn't in his bed,
He's either chasing pigeons, or on top of next doors shed.
At least he now seems settled and contented I would say.
His nights are spent out hunting, and he sleeps most of the day.

Some evenings he sits on my desk, he's a cat you can't ignore,
For when he wants attention, he taps my shoulder with his paw.
There's nothing he likes better when it's time to take a nap,
A good stretch out relaxing, purring quietly on my lap.

The moral of this poem is when you need a friend,
Just find a cat like Whiskey, devoted to the end....