The Lesson Plan (for T.S. Eliot)

By Jennifer Weigel

Illustrated by Seren Derryth-Riddle

Approachable he surely be, despite his strange disdain for cows,

for one so civilized as me to bestow lore as time allows.

He may have thought he knew us well, having seen many a fair cat,

however, it seems truth did tell – he really had no sense of that.

So, by most timely circumstance, I came into his life and art

in certainty, not happenstance, as I had wisdom to impart.

I clued him into etiquette and proper addresses and names,

from Siam to Connecticut – we cats have complicated games.

Like the proper way to drink tea is with cream in a wide tureen,

lapping it most delicately so you can keep your whiskers clean.

And cats are cats and dogs are dogs – that’s nature at its basest truth –

so, referring to catalogues, you’ll find that dogs remain uncouth.

Cats must respectfully be shown we are lords, regal and awesome,

and, so, I let our ways be known to that poetic Old Possum.

Tom wrote everything I said down, first in letters and then a book –

this man of scholastic renown gave it a most Practical hook.

Thus St. Louis Rumpuscats course along Mississippi River

through Hell, high water, and much worse such as makes one’s whiskers quiver.

Or at the Boston Harbor, where Bravos can’t help but hope for fish

once freed from nets to fly through air – claws ready to snatch such a dish.

And we’re as easily at home, basking in both the sun and shade

through all the sculpture parks of Rome, in stone laps on the promenade.

Or, in sidewalk cafes of France, we sip a demitasse and purr

while Jellicles will sing and dance in their dapper black-and-white fur.

Among London’s winding alleys, digging through all the rubbish bins,

every single Gumbie sallies and with each new dive, treasure wins.

And, even in remote Surrey, you’ll find us fetching rat and mouse;

farm life’s full of things that scurry and there are ample meals of grouse.

For cats know well the city street just as we know the country lane,

and throughout both, on padded feet, we make our most noble refrain.

And now our spots and spats and tails are cherished over all the world

as T.S. Eliot’s cat tales in art, dance, verse, and theater swirl.