Hugo waits, his every muscle taut,
Except for twitching tail uncanny still.
Soon, suddenly, he’ll strike, as swift as thought:
Soon hapless mouse will be but bloody kill.
Then later, after napping, he may play —
Or is it fight? there’s no good way to tell.
Perhaps his human servants’ flesh he’ll flay,
Or make his cat companion’s life a hell.
And now he craves attention, tame and meek,
Imploring only to be stroked and scratched.
He purrs and stretches, lang’rous, long, and sleek.
Gentleness and innocence are matched
With casual violence in the feline race,
Dual natures joined in feline grace.