It is not easy to hold a cat
under ones arm, everyone
knows that and they bend
in the middle just to make
it more difficult.

Plus they claw your jumper
or worse they might fang you
with their teeth.

At night, alley cats make an
awful racket always out of tune
reminds me of when I began
to learn to play my acoustic.

The neighbours complained
constantly, but I persisted, I
had to, I was alone, it was
my companion, felt nice to
the touch, warm with an hour
glass figure like a young lady.

Even standing against the wall
it is as nice a piece of furniture
as one could wish for, mine has
a name, Tarugi because she is
an anagram.

She wears a Dutch Capo sometimes
and a chastity belt, but what is most
interesting is that once when I had
guests for lunch only to discover
that I had no way of grating
The Parmesan™ over the Spagetti,
I began to panic but Tarugi came
to the rescue by rasping the
cheese on the strings of Fret one.

It was a perfect solution.

Besides all that, she has a womb
where music gestates, she also has
six umbilical chords. It is through her
navel she resonates. Her ancestors
came from Anatolia she’s Turkish,
her mother was Sophia from Marmara.

          Otto, the man was her dad.