My kitty chases shadows, as her instincts demand
And sometimes the excitement gets a bit out of hand
She'll ramble and she'll scramble and she'll fly through the air
To pile on the tile at the foot of the stair.
I meant to do that, I'll have it be known
I did it on purpose, for plans of my own,
Since you're just a human and I am a cat,
I thought I ought to mention that I meant to do that.
My kitty jumps the ravens, just to give them a scare;
She'll leap a dozen feet or so straight up in the air;
If the ravens see her heading up, they don't hang around
And both her paws are empty when she touches the ground.
When cats do something foolish, they don't run and hide
Some cynical souls say they're salving their pride;
They pull themselves together and they flourish their tails
They fluff their ruffs, or casually polish their nails.
From a kitten's book of etiquette, this lesson I take
You don't have to be embarrassed when you make a mistake
You pull yourself together, and you brush off your hat,
And tell the watching crowd, "you know, I meant to do that!"
Copyright © 1999 Catherine Faber and Arlene Hills