I love cats. I own two – Samantha and Lucy – and our neighbourhood is full of them. There is only one, however, of note: Jasper, the cat next door. He’s huge. He’s intimidating. He scares the living bejesus out of my two poor little girls. You always know when he’s coming because, incongruously, this huge boy wears a tinkly little bell around his massive neck that announces his furry presence. He’s quite a character and I have a real soft spot for him. This poem is for my daughter and for Jasper’s family.

I know a cat named Jasper.
He lives next door to me.
He’s huge and grey and fabulous
– but naughty, too. You’ll see.

A furry fiend is Mr J;
No outlaw could outclass him.
He rules the street with iron paw
and bullies all who pass him.

My driveway is his kingdom,
His throne my windowsill.
He reigns with furry privilege
and bends all to his will.

He serenades the milky moon
with wildly whiskered wonder.
His yowel can ignite the stars;
His purr can silence thunder.

His fierce golden eyes gleam wild
with undisguised delight
when he leaps at me from shrubbery
in the inky black of night.

The clawed assassin meets my eye,
then yawns with dark disdain.
He’s nonchalantly scheming
how to frighten me again.

He slowly pads towards my door
and coolly strolls inside.
My own two cats have disappeared.
When Jasper comes, you hide.

He pees in all my pot plants.
He scratches my front door.
He thinks my pillow is his bed
and he dribbles on my floor.

He lies in wait at breakfast time
and covets every spillage.
Deserted cat bowls yield their last
to the King of loot and pillage.

I know a cat named Jasper.
Beware his caterwaul!
A conquering thief, a despot puss:
One Cat To Rule Them All.