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At age forty-seven, all set in our ways,
We fostered a kitty aged just twenty days.
With his mom, Oreo, Chip entered our care
Plus three foster brothers for cat’s milk to share.
All five got sick. With health fast-depleting,
Wendy gave them steam baths, hot cloths and feedings.
Ere all were adopted, Chip captured our heart
And stayed in our home as a permanent part.

We’re “Gaffer & Gammer” to our “Feline Son,” 
But our nicknames for him stand forty plus one!
His birth-given moniker was Chips Ahoy;
With affection, we call him our dear Little Boy.
I’ll not list the rest, but three I’ll not skip:
Mr. Chips, Chippy, and of course, Super-Chip.

His handsome cat-features one cannot escape:
Chip’s mask and his big “C” tattooed on his cape.
His fur is as soft as the fluffiest bunny—
To pet him resembles the sweetness of honey.
Though leashed outdoors he’s a formidable foe,
Catching rodents—even birds—when flying too low!

His Gammer has taught him a full dozen tricks
And both have been featured in Cat Festival flicks.
A natural showman, not typically shy,
He sits and rolls over and jumps very high!
As long as we play till his energy saps, 
He chooses a human for long, cuddly naps.
Each day is a blending of mischief and laughter;
Catification is our “ever after.”

Chippy is now four; we pray factored years
Will add to our unlikely mingling of tears.
You see, I’m allergic to most cats I meet, 
But when he’s distressed, I’m up on my feet.
And Chip’s kitty-illness left his eyes watery;
We frequently wipe them for vision less tottery.
This agile ten-pounder is faithfully home
Through bad days and lockdowns and many a tome.

Like us, Chip is destined to one day expire,
Surrend’ring to burial or cremation pyre.
That wasn’t God’s will—no, He had something higher
For air-breathing creatures, and Earth, and for fire.
Created Day Six with Adam their namer,
The cat-kind were once never wild, but tamer.
Then mankind messed up, and animals suffer
Longing for God to redeem and to buffer.
My prayer is that God will raise up pets like Chip
To live on the New Earth—Death’s curses to flip!

Such mysteries cannot be answered just now; 
We just love our pets the best we know how.
Regardless of lifespan or heavenly life,
Our Chip’s been a blessing to me and my wife.
Ingeniously made by Creator God,
A cat’s traits are grand, though seemingly odd!
We thank God for Chip; there’s just no denyin’—
For even our Lord is both Lamb and a Lion.

I know that a pet doesn’t equal a child,
But the love we feel toward him is surely not mild!
I’m now a cat softie; I cannot pretend.
My new cherished Chip-name is My Little Friend.

“Paul’s Poetic Platform” Series Note

This 10-part poetic series covers a wide variety of general and personal topics in an attempt to offer insights, blessings, and inspiration as I model trying new things in this era of widespread societal and personal changes. I may employ different styles, with the cohesion of acrostic, one-word rhyming titles from A through J.

This month, I mix light-hearted levity with the life-enriching phenomenon of sharing a home with a beloved household pet. Even amidst the dangers, toils and snares of 2020, something as simple as a pet can add to human flourishing, and this poem celebrates a super special furry feline. —PRA