This is the second poem by Mr. Duane Hunt, my friend and cousin, to be published on my blog. He composed this for a good friend when her cat, named Mesick, returned home after a three week wandering cat walk-about. He just strolled on in the door, like nothing had happened. Mesick kept his own counsel, and never explained his long absence. I have omitted his owner’s name for the sake of privacy.

---

 When The Little Turd Came Home 

He vanished like mist in the morning light,
A paw-print ghost in the hush of night.
Three weeks gone, no scratch, no sound—
Just empty corners and hope unbound.

We searched, we sighed, we cursed the air,
Each creak of floorboard sparked a prayer.
Mesick came and Mesick went,
Still no sign, no furry gent.

But then—like magic, tail held high,
He strolled back in with that smug guy’s eye.
No apology, no grand reveal,
Just hunger, dust, and a casual squeal.

A collar now, with AirTag tight,
No more vanishing into the night.
Let satellites track his feline roam,
Because this little turd is staying home.

He missed his bed, his bowl, his throne,
The quiet hum of a house well-known.
And though he strayed, he’s back for good—
(Or at least until the next wild mood.)

So here’s to cats with secret quests,
To hearts that race in sleepless chests.
To love that waits, no matter how far—
And finds its way home, like a falling star.

By: Duane Hunt

---

---

Copyright © 2009-2026 by Maria Appleby for Maria’s Musings: Tales My Heart Tells. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2026 by Duane Hunt for “When The Little Turd Came Home” All Rights Reserved.

Featured image generated byJetpack Image Editor

❤️ THANK YOU FOR VISITING MY BLOG! ❤️

---

---