There Was a Cat in Lord Ashcombe’s House

There was a cat in Lord Ashcombe’s house, and the cat leapt upon the mantle.

And the cat leapt upon the mantle, and it disturbed the grandfather clock.

And the clock chimed, and the clock chimed so loudly that the parrot squawked.

And the parrot squawked, and it flapped its wings, and it upset the tea tray.

And the tea tray tipped, and the tea spilled upon Lady Ashcombe’s embroidery.

And Lady Ashcombe fretted, and she called Mr. Whitcombe.

And Mr. Whitcombe shooed the cat, and he calmed the parrot, and he set the tea right again.

And I watched, and I watched so closely that I nearly tripped over the rug.

And the gardener dashed to the window, and he tracked mud across the polished floor.

And Mr. Whitcombe fetched the mop, and he cleaned the mud, and the house was tidy…

Until the cat leapt upon the mantle again.

And the mantle was dusted, and the mantle was polished, but the cat did not care.

And the clock chimed again, and the clock chimed so violently that the footman dropped the silver tray.

And the tray crashed, and the footman nearly toppled over the stool,

And the stool struck the teapot, and the teapot wobbled, and the spout tipped tea into my sleeve.

And I jumped back, and I cried out, and Lady Ashcombe flapped her handkerchief.

And the cat flicked its tail, and the parrot squawked even louder, and Miss Abigail shrieked.

And I ran to help, and I stepped on the bell-pull, and it rang through the house.

And the cook appeared, and she dropped the sugar bowl, and the sugar spilled across the floor.

And the maid slipped, and she grabbed at the curtains, and the curtains tore.

And Mr. Whitcombe sighed, and he straightened the tray, and he shushed the cat,

And he calmed the parrot, and he dusted the mantle, and he polished the silver, and he wiped up the sugar,

And he replaced the curtains, and he mopped the floor, and he straightened the footman’s cravat…

But the cat leapt upon the mantle again.

And I, who had watched this many days, shook my head,

And I wrote in my notebook,

“Here is a house where a cat rules, and all servants serve at the whim of chaos.”

And the parrot flapped, and the teapot tipped again, and the tray teetered, and the sugar scattered,

And Lady Ashcombe faintly clutched her handkerchief, and I held my breath, and the gardener tracked more mud,

And Mr. Whitcombe fetched the mop again, and I thought, perhaps, it is ever thus in this house,

Where the cat leaps upon the mantle, and the chain of calamity begins anew.

And so it happens, every day at four,

And I, ever faithful observer, note each flap, each spill, each shriek, each sigh,

Until evening falls, and the tea is finally poured,

And the house is quiet, until the cat leaps upon the mantle again.