It was at the very beginning of the Great Confinement, Corona virus rode,
Every day we were visited by a seemingly hungry black cat,
Morning, noon and evening, at our door he meowed, the bonze we nicknamed him,
He greedily ate cat food and cat meat and then left.
During a month from mid-March to Easter, from purring to hugs he settled down,
Kiki gone, we called him Kiki, stray cat or in need of love,
Our visitor disappeared at night but passed regularly every day,
At the morning meal, one day around his neck, an address collar was found for him.
Not a wanderer at all but a simple vagrant, kiki had many masters!
In the same street, with unknown neighbors, he lived fifty meters away,
Telephone contact was made to confirm his daily visit,
As for her mistress, she recommended that we go from all to nothing.
But the bonze did not hear it that way and his visits continued,
No more sachets of meat or croquettes, that he received hugs,
Not resentful at all, our nomad did not deprive himself of his comings and goings,
Left for a few days in the countryside, we say to ourselves he will forget us!
Barely back, the next morning he came back for his loves,
Meows, rubbing around the legs, he had been waiting for us,
The prowler undoubtedly too well at home, in our garden would take his turn again,
His hosts did not give up on the food, despite his constant appeals.
Suddenly for the first Saturday in July, the phone rang in the middle of a meal,
At the end of the line again his irritated mistress cursed us,
Since your return, my cat no longer eats and of lies accused us,
The tone rose and we were threatened with a handrail for her cat.
THE ARIÉ ... JOIE on his high horses went up and to the neighbor went,
In a dialogue of the deaf, the discussion by two girls is enriched,
Angry and rude, nothing helped, I was called a liar and horribilis,
Breaking up the discussions, I provided no food, but hugs guaranteed.
PRAYER OF THE CAT
O my master don't take me for a slave
Because I have a taste for freedom in me,
Don't try to break through my secrets
Because I have a taste for mystery in me,
Don't humiliate me
Because I have a taste for pride in me,
Do not abandon me
Because I have a taste for loyalty in me,
Don't force me to caress
Because I have a taste for modesty in me,
Know how to love me and I will know how to love you
Because I have a taste for friendship in me.
La Fontaine meanwhile had a more nuanced idea of the qualities of the cat in his fable:
The moralist's conclusion is wise and severe, always tinged with pessimism, that is to say with truth: one must not count on the recognition of an enemy, interest and necessity alone rule the world. If, from a human point of view, these observations are painful, it cannot be denied that they offer us a salutary and fruitful teaching, at least in political questions and in international relations. They remind us of mistrust, which is a very useful attitude in life.