Dozing, and dozing, and dozing!
Pleasant enough,
Dreaming of sweet cream and mouse meat,—
Delicate stuff!

Waked by a somerset, whirling
From cushion to floor;
Waked to a wild rush for safety
From window to door.

Waking to hands that first smooth us,
And then pull our tails;
Punished with slaps when we show them
The length of our nails!

These big mortal tyrants even grudge us
A place on the mat.
Do they think we enjoy for our music
Staccatoes of "scat"?

To be treated, now, just as you treat us,—
The question is pat,—
To take just our chances in living,
Would YOU be a cat?
LUCY LARCOM.