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A New Year’s Poem for Your Consideration

December 31, 2009

A Problem Solved

My dears, perhaps you never knew

That mice have mental problems too.

A certain Mouse I used to know

Quite candidly informed me so.

In fact, he made a full confession–

How he had struggled with depression,

Arising from a tail obsession.

“Alas,” he squeaked, “woe, woe is me,

No fur upon our tails have we.

Naked our bottoms, bare our rears!”

And then he shed despondent tears.

For years, pursuing remedies,

He’d fixed his hopes on therapies;

Yoga, he thought, might do him good,

And surely acupuncture would.

Holistic hormones could not fail

To solve the issues of his tail.

And, lo, indeed, fur grew apace!

But only on poor Mouse’s face.

(Mouse pattern-baldness, you should know, Means nothing on their tails can grow.

There’s neither remedy nor cure

For rodent tails deprived of fur.)

So when Mouse asked his doctor why

He got this negative reply:

“There’s nothing any mouse can do,

Indeed I suffer from it too.”

“If doctors are of no avail,

How can I ever fur my tail?”

He wondered, focusing his mind

On beasts with elegant behinds.

He pondered rabbit, squirrel and fox,

The magpie, turkey and peacocks.

And, thus inspired, he saw a way

That he could make a tail-toupee!

With glue applied to make it stick,

A bit of fur would do the trick.

Perhaps some pelt from squirrel or rabbit, If he could find a way to grab it.

But better far would Tabby be,

For gray and nicely fluffed was she,

And just outside his mouse hole sat,

That plump and drowsy pussy cat.

“She’s sound asleep (I hear no purr),

Now is the time to pluck my fur,”

He thought, and tip-toed near,

Past whiskers first and then her ear.

There, on her belly, grew a patch

Of mouse-gray fur, the perfect match!

And this he tugged. . . .

The outcome, you no doubt surmise,

Can hardly stir the least surprise.

The Moral

What can’t be cured, try not to mind,

And never look at your behind.


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