There was an old cat on our back rail,
His feet were sore with blisters.
He skinned his tail on a rusty nail,
As he ran from the doberman sisters.
Away he dashed down the rail,
The wind blowing through his whiskers.
Leaving the dogs so far behind,
Their barks seeming like whispers.
And as he jumps from fence to limb,
I see him smile in glee.
Praise be to mother nature,
That dogs can't climb a tree!!!