No one could fathom the reason
My grandmother's cat was called Fluff
For this was a short haired moggy,
A close-cropped, crew-cut scruff.

A roly-poly, rolling, sailor's gait,
Sinuous body, striped blacks and greys,
Slit yellow eyes in a scarred flat face,
Flat head, and ears that grew sideways.

Here was no conventional beauty
Certainly none that the eye could see.
He also smelled a little bit
And lacked a pedigree.

For his mother was a sea-faring cat
Who braved the Arctic Ocean,
Playing her part, by delivering arms
To keep the Second Front open.

His father, it was said, was a tough buccaneer
A dangerous, Archangel lout
Who put effort into winning the war
By black marketeering and fooling about.

So Fluff was born in the Barents Sea,
And smuggled on land by my uncle.
A present for my Grandmama,
Who fed him on milk and mack'rel.

Beset by a wanton wanderlust
He'd disappear for days at a time
And when he returned, he grabbed his chair
And nothing would move him; not reason, nor rhyme.

A good natured tom who never spat,
Nor clawed, nor scratched, nor bit,
But slept through it all, exhausted
No matter what we kids did.

Eventually he went the way of all flesh
Through living life upto the brim.
But this gentle rake left his mark far and wide
For each cat looked exactly like him.

Margery Rehman

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/homage-to-fluff-a-hopefully-humorous-poem/