Shakespeare's Cat's Soliloquy
By William Shakespeare's Cat
 To go outside, and there perchance to stay Or to remain within: that
is the question: Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer
 The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather That Nature rains on those
who roam abroad, Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
 And so by dozing melt the solid hours
 That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time And stall the
dinner bell. To sit, to stare Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
 Then when the portal's opened up, to stand As if transfixed by doubt.
To prowl; to sleep; To choose not knowing when we may once more Our
readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball; For if a paw were shaped
to turn a knob, Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
 And going out and coming in were made
As simple as the breaking of a bowl,
 What cat would bear the household's petty plagues, The cook's
weft-practiced kicks, the butter's broom, The infant's careless pokes,
the tickled ears, The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks That fur
is heir to, when, of his own free will, He might his exodus or entrance
make
 With a mere mitten? Who would spaniels fear, Or strays trespassing
from a neighbor's yard, But that the dread of our unheeded cries And
scratches at a barricaded door
 No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
 And makes us rather bear our humans' faults Than run away to
unguessed miseries?
 Thus caution doth make house cats of us all; And thus the bristling
hair of resolution Is softened up with the pale brush of thought, And
since our choices hinge on weighty things, We pause upon the threshold
of decision.
Received in email, author unkown
 
 
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