For we shall consider Margaret's cat Minnie.

For Minnie is short for Minerva.

For she is grey and black and slender.

For she has wide green eyes.

For she sleeps on a grey cushion in a wicker basket.

For she slinks, four-footed hush, around the legs of the table.

For she has an appointment with the veterinarian.

For Minnie has not been spayed yet.

For Minnie unfixed is humping the rug.

And Minnie wails forlorn as a baby craving milk.

And Minnie is sage, and sometimes she is silent.

And Minnie is an excellent consolation to Margaret.

Indeed, a most excellent consolation to Margaret.

For Minnie eats her breakfast at half past eleven.

For Minnie inhabits a realm of pedestrian magic.

For angels bless Minnie in her housebound meanderings.

And devils fear Minnie protected in slumber by God.

For her low soft purring is as vesperal psalmody.

For she is vested in heaven's own light from the open screen door.

For she disdains to cavort on the balcony.

For there will be many quick mice for Minnie to catch.