The Christmas Rescue

‘Twas the week before Christmas. I tell you no lie.

I was trying to bake a gooseberry pie.

I got out the bowl, the flour and lard

And happened to look up and out to the yard.


There I saw trouble with a capital “T”

A dog had our daisy trapped up in a tree.

He snapped and he growled and poor Daisy meowed.

He had her completely and utterly cowed.


I threw down the flour (in haste – I admit)

It burst with a “poof.” I was covered with it.

Though I couldn’t see, and knocked over the lard,

I blinked my white eyes and went out to the yard.


Waving a dishtowel, I screamed at the beast,

“GET OUT! Pick on someone your own size at least!”

The Dane turned to assess me and took my advice.

Eyeball to eyeball, my veins turned to ice!


I screamed bloody murder. He growled like a Mack.

And Daisy chose that time to leap on his back.

She dug in her claws. The dog started to scream.

She was on top of the situation. (If you see what I mean!)


As I ran through the garden, I heard a great THUD.

I turned much too quickly and landed in mud.

The Dane had turned turtle and was all flailing paws,

While up in the tree sat the smug feline cause.


So I left her to it; she had no need of me.

What was I thinking? I rubbed my sore knee.

I limped to the house. Foul odor did cling.

It was then that the telephone started to ring!


Upstairs I scrambled to dash for the phone,

But slipped on the lard – had I broken a bone?

The phone stopped its ringing by the time I crawled there.

The creep left no message. Made me mad as a bear.


And what was that SMELL? It was putrid completely.

I brushed back my hair and found out it was ON me!

I ran for the bathtub. The pie? It could wait!

But the doorbell insisted; I answered my fate.


My mother-in-law with her very best friend!

I thought I would faint! Oh, this was the end!

But they tittered. They giggled, then outright guffawed.

I fled to the bathtub, and scrubbed myself raw.


Mum cleaned up my kitchen and made us some tea

As I told my story, they giggled with glee.

Then in walked our Daisy, not a hair out of place.

She strutted with dignity, style, and grace.


She purred on Mum’s lap as if that was just that.

And I learned my lesson – not to rescue my cat!

A week passed. On Christmas my cat got a card.

“Mewwy Christmas!” it said. “We looked into your yard.


“And last week you cheered us. Our laughter did ring.

Don’t tell your mistress, but we saw the whole thing!”

This Christmas, I’m red-faced just knowing that soon

Famous I’ll be as the neighbour’s buffoon!