Elizabeth Wright
~ The Writer ~
HomeMy BooksOther Writing WorksMy PoetryMy Photography
Teddy and the Trophy Frog

Teddy, our cat, caught a big frog the other night,
He proudly brought it in, and gave me such a fright
When he wiped this slimy creature all around my head.
I wasn’t even sure if it was actually dead.

I said, ‘Go away, cat,’ which Teddy hadn’t expected,
He then got the hump because his present was rejected.
After a busy day at work I needed to get some sleep.
I closed my eyes, snuggled down and started counting sheep.

So Teddy had a sulk, and dropped the frog down on the floor,
With no appreciative audience, his kill was now a bore.
My bed was a better option, being nicely cosy and warm,
He settled down by my feet and slept there until dawn.

Then we heard funny noises, that ‘corpse’ was far from dead,
The frog was on the move again, we could see it from my bed.
It flopped across the floor in a peculiar kind of way,
Causing Teddy to go into hunting mode to catch up with his prey.

But his victim had found sanctuary, a crevice in the wall,
Where it seemed Teddy couldn’t touch him, not at all.
But, frogs’ bottoms are chunky, one could say quite fat,
And from this niche there protruded rather a lot of that.

To Teddy, that was more than enough to grab and hold,
Then pull out and demolish, this was cat hunting gold.
But I couldn’t have murder done, even Nature’s way,
This had to be stopped; I endeavoured to have my say.

But shouting at Teddy, “Stop it, leave that poor frog alone”
Got a look from him, which clearly said, ‘She’s having a moan.’
I tried slapping a newspaper against the side of the bed,
And yelling again at Teddy, “I don’t want to see that frog dead!”

Leaping out to rescue this creature, unfortunately I couldn’t do,
For under the bedclothes I was naked, a most amusing view.
The house was being renovated; no curtains had been hung,
Not a single cloth to hide behind, no material on the rung.

I tried to wrap the big blue sheet around my tubby frame,
But it was in a tangle, sorting it out was a challenging game.
This time of the morning, the road was busy outside,
I could easily be seen, there was nowhere I could hide.

Sitting up in bed I desperately tried to unravel enough sheet
To cover all my modesty, but two ends just wouldn’t meet.
I made a grab for my dressing gown laid on a nearby chair,
A totally wasted effort, because I couldn’t get anywhere near.

I threw shreds of paper at the cat, hoping for distraction,
A few bits he patted around, but they held no real attraction.
Then wolf whistles from outside told me a builder was now here,
And viewing my reverse side with an appreciative, cheeky leer.

Teddy was still pulling his quarry out, inch by inch,
Victory and victim were in his paws, this was a positive cinch.
But, there came a voice from the doorway; having heard me shout,
My son-in-law was standing there, asking, ‘What’s this all about?’

Barely covered by the sheet, clutching bits of Daily Mail,
I pointed to Teddy, the hole in the wall, and could only wail
‘It’s a frog.’ Which probably confirmed his mother-in-law was dotty,
Had completely lost her marbles and was certainly going potty.

Teddy then succeeded in getting hold of his slimy prey
And proudly carried it around in his mouth, as if to say,
‘Look, I’ve finally got it, aren’t I such a clever cat.’
Only to have son-in-law sternly say, ‘Teddy, give me that.’

So the little frog was rescued, and safely tucked away
Under the garden shed, out of the light of day.
But frogs are simple creatures with not much up top.
He emerged from his hiding place and began to hop.

Teddy was delighted; he could now have another go
At capturing his bouncing prey, and as we shouted ‘NO’
He gave one big pounce - - and the dirty deed was done.
The final sad score – Frog zero – Teddy One.
More Poetry

© Elizabeth Wright