As promised, here is my poem, "Velvet."  It's about the cat who wandered into our back yard one day when I was about 7 years old.  I asked my mom if I could keep him.  She said, "Ask your Dad."  I did.  He said, "Ask your Mom." 

They talked to each other that night, and said it would be OK if the little pussycat stayed with us.  He had a clump of dirt in his fur, no collar or name tag, and didn't seem to belong to anyone.  We did put up signs, but no one called.  So he became my first cat.

He turned out to be one of the best cats ever.  He had the softest fur, and that's how he got the name.  His fur really did feel as soft as velvet. 

My brother was a real baby then.  Whenever Velvet came near him, he would hit the poor pussycat.  Velvet seemed to know that he was just a kid and didn't mean to hurt him.  He would just wait for a chance, and slip out of my brother's reach.

Velvet was very brave.  When dogs came around, he chased them away.  It was clearly his house! 

Well, here's that poem.  I hope you like it.

Velvet
By Ina Hillebrandt, age 7

Velvet is my cat,

Whom I dearly love to pat.

He is black and white,

And will not scratch or bite.

He likes to play with string,

And almost anything.

He's big, strong and fat.

He's Velvet, my cat.