The cats have run away to hide.
They do not wish to go for a ride.
Oh, no I won’t! the wise cat sings–
Rides generally arrive at unpleasant things
like trimming of claws and shots in the ass
and minor surgeries… Thanks, I’ll pass!
The cats are crouching in unlikely places
with wide opal eyes and resentful faces:
Under the sofa they’d rather abide
than companionably get in the car for a ride.