“So, somebody just left my sad, sore self out front of Feline Rescue. I’m relieved and thankful that they didn’t leave me out front of a bingo parlor, I guess. The people here tell me that I’m just about the sweetest oleboy who has shown up here in quite a while. I’m mostly white with some patches of black, and, as the song said, ‘All I need is love. Love, love, love.’ Listen to me purr – I am soothing and kind when I purr.”

“I know I look as though I’ve been crying for weeks or peeling onions. Believe me, I’m getting better. Not crying – and certainly not peeling onions – onions are deadly for cats. We don’t eat them, and we don’t peel them. I had entropion! I know – sounds like another ancient Roman, kind of like centurion. Entropion is when a cat’s eyelid turns in on his eye. Why? I don’t know. I’m sure my veterinarians can tell you more than you’ll ever want to know. But I’ve had surgery, and I’m taking my medicine, and, pretty soon, I’m going to be the handsome guy I was meant to be.”

“All you really need to know is how loving I am. Love is Virgil’s reason for being. Yes, Virgil writes poetry – love poems, not military sagas. Wouldn’t you like to share your life with a poetic cat? I promise not to recite The Aeneid at 4:00 AM. If I could, which I can’t, I wouldn’t, because I’m both loving and respectful. 

“I watch out the window. Virgil has been out there. Virgil does not want to be out there – not now, not ever again. But he likes to see what is out there. Perhaps, one day, he’ll see Robert E. Lee pass by again. I see trees. I see buses. I see big trucks. I watch, though, for the cavalry again.”

“Virgil is a profound cat. I think deeply. I think always. I am totally good, always good. I aspire to be a lap cat, a bed cat, the cat who completes the décor of your contemporary space. Come listen to me at Feline Rescue. Be soothed by my purr. Be loved by me. Love me back. Please bring $120 for your Cat Poet, Virgil.”