I was bored so I wrote a poem about a handy tool cat owners keep handy.
Shit Scissors: A Poem
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.