A burst of thunder shook the house
As lightning pierced the night.
Then Johnson looked around and saw
No human ones in sight.
He moved with stealthy, padded steps
Across the room, unseen.
While wind howled noisily outside,
He stopped and scanned the scene—
One candle on the window sill,
One curtain swinging free,
One white-barred parakeet abode
For Fred and Carolee.
Old Johnson studied carefully
The peaceful, sleeping pair
And smiled at their quietness—
A circumstance quite rare.
With one swift leap, he took his place
Atop the window sill,
And patiently he waited there,
His body poised and still.
A sudden bolt of lightning
Split the calm in two,
And Johnson jumped into the air
As he had planned to do.
His furry form collided with
The silver candle stick
And sent it tumbling to the floor,
Effectively and quick.
It only took a minute more
To set the drapes ablaze,
And soon the couple’s dwelling place
Was swallowed in a haze.
Old Johnson bounded for the door
Trailed by wisps of smoke,
And mid the flaming, falling ash,
The parakeets awoke.
Safe outside, the scheming cat
Thought he smelled burnt feathers.
He thought of future peace
And smiled for stormy weather.