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A first draft, written while the noble and then still alive but very old cat was as described. Forgive my failures as a poet. Admire the beast himself:
Shadowfax
The ancient warrior
lies at my feet
curled by the wood stove fire
eyebrows expressively bored
Bold slaughterer of mice
birds-bane and
slaughterer of young opossums
swallower of snakes
In your day no cat dared
set foot in your back yard
you returned from battle untouched
Aging but still triumphant you
brought home scars -- an ear pierced
a pink line across your nose
but none on your butt
Doggerel though it is, this is an unfinished first draft. I'm pretty sure you'll have to endure several more. It's worth nothing that the facts come before the scansion and the rhyme, though.
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