Inspector Murdock ... on the
Surveillance was his
His assignment was to
Each soul who went or
So alert and so
The bright-eyed cat saw
He saw the goings and the
Of each moving,
High atop a tall, brick wall,
His vantage point was prime,
The view he had, spectacular
Well worth the time to climb.
He was better than a watch dog,
He could not be plied with treats,
And he awakened like a shot,
If he ever fell asleep.
No one in the neighborhood
Could escape his watchful eye,
Mister Murdock never once
Let a single soul slip by.
If he spotted anything,
He judged to be amiss,
He'd howl like a banshee,
And between each howl, he'd hiss.
Sometimes it was just a falling leaf,
Or something equally as silly,
But no one knew till things were checked,
And judged as willy-nilly.
The noise Mister Murdock made
Claimed everyone's attention,
The neighbors came from all around,
Often filled with apprehension.
More than once he'd seen a stranger,
Intent on doing harm,
The neighbors then were grateful
They had heeded his alarm.
One night, very dark and late,
Well past the Midnight hour,
Mister Murdock spotted something,
Moving near a bed of flowers.
A figure, hunched and creeping,
With stealth, sneaking down the walk,
Mister Murdock opened both his eyes,
And watched him like a hawk.
The man veered a bit from side to side,
As if he'd lost his way,
And was searching hard for something,
Better found in light of day.
Mister Murdock, now on high alert,
Stretched and strained to see the man,
Who tripped in the inky darkness,
Tipping, spilling garbage cans.
He caused such a frightful clatter,
Mister Murdock hissed and screamed,
The entire neighborhood awoke,
And every light went on, it seemed.
The man looked pretty foolish,
With all that trash on his behind,
He said, "SH-H-H-SH," to Mister Murdock,
Who paid him no-never-mind.
Mister Murdock kept on howling,
As a voice came from the night.
"PATRICK O'SHEA! GET IN THIS HOUSE!
SURE 'N YOU'RE A TURR-IBLE SIGHT!"
The man pricked up his ears,
And struggled to his feet,
With every flashlight trained on him
He staggered down the street.
His wife was standing in the doorway,
Hands on hips, prepared to fight,
"OH, PATRICK O'SHEA!" folks heard her say,
"IT'S THE COUCH FOR YOU TONIGHT!"
The neighbors laughed at poor old Pat,
And Mister Murdock settled down,
Knowing full well that this event,
Would be tomorrow's talk-of-the-town.
Job well done, Mister Murdock thought,
As his feline shoulders shrugged,
Patrick 'Shea needs a better way,
To get home from his nights at the pub.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright August 2005