There once was a cat named Kitty
whose adventures inspired this ditty -
a preposterous tale
which may become stale
as I recount and attempt to be witty.
In North Carolina it started,
the attempt to get this cat charted
on a plane to Deutschland,
though we hadn't planned
on such incidents as to make us faint-hearted.
He went to the veterinarian
(in his opinion, completely barbarian).
Many papers were signed;
we were officially inclined
to endorsement from the USDA Authoritarian.
For an hour and a half we drove
with a screaming young child, we strove
for an autograph and stamp
to officially replant
this cat to our new German grove.
We stopped at the local maze
(an airport - they cause such a craze,)
to gain the green light
that for shipping, he'd be all right
however his crate they did not appraise.
Another afternoon running around
but there was nary a cat crate to be found
At least three different shops,
all of them flops,
though we eventually bought something sound.
There was also the need for an expensive scanner
to display Kitty's microchip identity in a manner
that allowed the EU to read
that he was who he seemed,
and customs could wave the approval banner.
Throughout this somewhat hectic adventure,
which was already a real jaw-clencher,
we were dealing with movers
and all related maneuvers
to progress in our Germany-bound venture.
We dropped Kitty off with a friend,
for on our own flight it was time to ascend.
We had no clue
of the many jobs she'd accrue -
what would follow was surely not intended.
The End of Part I