Shit Scissors: A Poem

October 14, 2016 — 7 Comments

A tool that is mostly used to cut through Christmas paper,

Scrapbooking or shearing hair or even stab a raper.

Scissors in my home, though, are assigned a different duty:

Trimming out the dookie caked around my kitty’s booty.

When our long-hair hunkers down to birth a stinky poopie,

It becomes a disaster when it gushes out soupy.

Watching it spill down her legs like melted chocolate ice cream,

I fought back insanity by belting out a high scream.

Failing to maintain myself in normal composition

Husband found me wallowing in a fetal position

He is one to approach situations more pragmatic

I admittedly, however, can be quite dramatic

Calmingly, he assures me that it’s all hunky-dory

Even though our feline is a prancing lavatory

“Everything will be okay,” promised my loving spouse.

But I whimpered, “She’s about to shit-stamp our whole house.”

Simply wiping off the mess she had wouldn’t placate me.

“Why don’t we burn down the house,” I asked rather irately.

Conveying dislike to the suggestion I presented

He grabbed the household scissors and the cat that I resented

“It will take two people,” he said, “to complete this mission.

So I will need your help in holding the cat in position.”

With a gentle, patient tone he provided his guidance.

His alternative to burning down the house made high sense.

First thing I did was hold the cat with its ass up high.

Then I lifted its tail, kissing my dignity goodbye.

He then used the scissors how God never had intended

(Use of rubber kitchen gloves is highly recommended).

As a side note: it’s okay to curse your God throughout.

For if this was a test, Him in my life I’ll do without.

Note two about cats who shit their legs: hold them firm

As those little bastards have a tendency to squirm.

Watching him trim away shit just like a skillful surgeon,

I tried to recall a greater love than him. There were none.

Once all done, the cat did wonder what the Hell did happen

But soon forgot and commenced a hearty butthole lappin’

 That was when I learned that a gauge to know Mr. Right

Is to feel during a task like that a pure delight.

So this advice to all cat owners is quite consequential.

Just like unrestricted love; shit scissors are essential.

7 responses to Shit Scissors: A Poem

  1. 

    Thanks for the giggle, Cary. Believe me… I know (unfortunately from experience) how this feels… *sigh*
    😀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. 

    Brilliant poem Cary!
    I’m sorry that I have been delayed researching Mr.Tiddles heart problems. If you’re conformable emailing me, I’ll explain and pass on some great sources for information. Thanks, Robin

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 

    This has Nobel prize for literature written all over it.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. 

    Oh god.oh god. Oh god…… ….

    Liked by 1 person

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