<i>Hamlet's Cat's Soliloquy</i><br /><br />"To go outside, and there perchance to stay<br />Or to remain within: that is the question:<br />Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer <br />The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather<br />That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,<br />Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,<br />And so by dozing melt the solid hours<br />That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time<br />And stall the dinner bell. To sit, to stare<br />Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state<br />A wish to venture forth without delay,<br />Then when the portal's opened up, to stand<br />As if transfixed by doubt. To prowl; to sleep;<br />To choose not knowing when we may once more <br />Our readmittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;<br />For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,<br />Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,<br />And going out and coming in were made<br />As simple as the breaking of a bowl,<br />What cat would bear the houselhold's petty plagues,<br />The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom,<br />The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,<br />The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks<br />That fur is heir to, when, of his own will,<br />He might his exodus or entrance make<br />With a mere mitten? Who would spaniels fear,<br />Or strays trespassing from a neighbor's yard,<br />But that the dread of our unheeded cries <br />And scraches at a barricaded door<br />No claw can open up, dispels our nerve<br />And makes us rather bear our humans' faults<br />Than run away to unguessed miseries?<br />Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;<br />And thus the bristling hair of resolution<br />Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,<br />And since our choices hinge on weighty things,<br />We pause upon the threshold of decision.