hamlet's cat

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