Saved by Pussy

He said little as they paddled their way along the sunken streets...

It had been days since they had seen life. Aside from the plants, that is. The ones left behind in the quick escape attempts. He always expected a post apocalyptic experience to be more shoulder pads, mo-hawks, and battles for gasoline.

Funny. . .

He could have all the petroleum in the world now and he wouldn’t care.

She noticed it first.

Out of a flooded alley it swam towards the canoe like they were expected for tea.

At first, they wanted to call it simply “cat”, but the collar read Adam.

In a way, that’s when they started their new life.


On it’s collar was a small container, shaped like a scroll
And when opened and pulled out 5 inches of paper did unroll
On it was a rhyme,labeled McGill's Meow, in simple words in plain old type
And this is what is said, as I recall, call it a warning if you like

He sneaks around at night, this cat, and eats all he can find
Perched atop the fridge he’ll eat potato chips without mind
He’ll eat any crumbs found upon floors
and lick empty dog bowls wishing for more
He’d steal the roll off of my plate
if for supper I arrived even a moment too late.

Though there’s one place he doesn’t know of it’s a pantry I've stocked for years
Canned meats, jellies and jams, and all things that keep folk grinning ear to ear
During the day when he is fat and sleeping with sunbeams on parlor floor
I sneak into third floor pantry, have a snack, and write some more
You see, I write though that's not my only kind secret
I know a few and wouldn't you . . . .

WAIT! Did he say food "stocked for years"?
Let me see that collar . . .

It has an address.