When T.S. Eliot Wrote Poems About Cats

                               By Pronoy Sarkar | Friday, September 05, 2014 - Off the Shelf

 Imagine this scene: You’ve just come home from a long and laborious day at the office. The sun has already set and you haven’t had time to buy groceries. Your fridge is laughably empty. Only a jar of mayonnaise and some pecans. You think about dipping the pecans in the mayonnaise and muse that such a meal perfectly encapsulates your midlife malaise. 

There, on the kitchen table, is your cat, Old Gumbie. You’ve never been very creative and can’t take credit for the name, which you love, and which was chosen by Thomas, a close friend. As you go through the week’s mail and ignore the smell that rises from your armpits (you haven’t bathed in a week because of work), you are pleased to see mail from none other than your good friend, Thomas! Your name is printed on the envelope in his sloppy, sinewy handwriting and inside is a letter.

 Well, actually, a poem: I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots. All day she sits beside the hearth or in the sun or on my hat: She sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat! 
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