Wednesday 19th August 2020 – Ashore at Muirtown (Inverness)

My name is Artie, I have smokey grey fur, I’m of the feline persuasion;
In twilight hours I hone foraging skills and practise escape and evasion.
Tim thought he was funny, he thought it was clever to block my usual exit,
I’ve been press ganged into being at sea and tortured with opinions on Brexit.

Last night I decided to take a stroll, or up north – to ‘roam the gloam’
Route carefully timed not to miss the boat, cos it’s 600 miles to walk home.
Along with the oyster, or is it the clam? whatever – the world would be mine
If I followed Tim out as the sun went down and he lowered the boat’s ensign.

I hadn’t been noticed so took my chance to make a well aimed leap
From deck to pontoon it wouldn’t be tough as the moon phase was neaps.
I felt a tug whilst in mid flight, my elegant pounce curtailed,
Like William Wallace before me – my bid for freedom had failed.

In slow motion style, into the oggin I plunged, with no dignity or grace
Aware of a splash of expletives from Tim and ‘oops’ written all over his face.
His big hand rushed towards me, I was grabbed by the scruff of my neck
Then he unceremoniously flung me, over the rail and onto the deck.

With locked lead firmly in his grasp, not on the extendible setting,
I’m blaming him for cat overboard drill, and my cold undignified wetting.
With true allegiance to scaredy cats I ran straight to find my mum,
But instead of recounting a night on the tiles all I’d seen was at chart datum.

I had visions of being hung out to dry, or worst still wrung or shaken,
With peels of laughter ringing in my ears I was mercifully mistaken.
I shot at him a grumpy stare, but to her my sweetest purr
As Row wrapped me in a soft warm towel and re-styled my drenched coiffure.

Now safely in my hammock, I’m happy here to stay,
While they do all the sightseeing and eat out twice a day.
I’ve got my toys, I’ve got my grub, I’ve TV if I want it,
I’m glad I’ve got good fashion sense and wore my new life jacket!