Poem: The Cat Hotel (Revisited) by Mark Tulin

Sometimes I walk down Carpinteria

to visit the felines at the Cat Hotel.

They are always there, purring

Furry, marking their territory.

They come from privileged backgrounds

with their fluffy tails in the air.

Their fur is shampooed and fragrant.

Their meows are soft and gentle.

Kitties and tabbies of all kinds

with chutes, lofts, and ladders to climb.

Siamese mingle with Russian Blues.

Himalayans boxing with the Tonkinese.

Zsa Zsa licking Angel, Sasha sniffing Zorro.

They have clean teeth and colored nails,

documented shots, and ears free of mites.

Cats that are alluring, cunning, and fickle at times.

No strays allowed.