Cats and Dogs
In Pusseyville, where pussies live,
The hangdog dogs on the dog days
Would disappear. They'd fade into the hills,
Lounge to the garbage heaps, slouch on quais,
Down in the dumps at the docks. A cat,
Real cool, I knew, would sip iced tea
Laced with a bit of barbiturate,
An illustrated dog book on her knee,
And say, “For no amount of scratch
Will dogs by day broach my backyard.
Pusseyville for pussies!” That old wretch!
When night had turned its black ace card,
What matings as the fur flew, yowl and bark,
Above the radio's blurred monologues.
And visitors would say, who risked the dark,
“In Pusseyville, it's raining cats and dogs!”
The hangdog dogs on the dog days
Would disappear. They'd fade into the hills,
Lounge to the garbage heaps, slouch on quais,
Down in the dumps at the docks. A cat,
Real cool, I knew, would sip iced tea
Laced with a bit of barbiturate,
An illustrated dog book on her knee,
And say, “For no amount of scratch
Will dogs by day broach my backyard.
Pusseyville for pussies!” That old wretch!
When night had turned its black ace card,
What matings as the fur flew, yowl and bark,
Above the radio's blurred monologues.
And visitors would say, who risked the dark,
“In Pusseyville, it's raining cats and dogs!”
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