Check out the beautiful artwork and poetry submitted over the years by Nora’s international fanbase.

In Praise of the piano cat

Sarah L. Gordon

Roll over Beethoven! Poor Mozart watch out! The scope of your greatness has been called into doubt by a newcomer to the world music scene… A goddess, a tabby, a diva, a queen. This pussycat prodigy takes to the floor, gleaming of coat, and gifted of paw. With pads, chin and whiskers she tickles the keys. Crescendo. Adagio. All mastered with ease. She wants no sheet music – the tune’s in her head. No metronome needed – her tail taps instead. Though she can’t reach the pedals she has reached the world, this grey and gorgeous, glorious girl!

The Feline Phenomenon from Philly

By Juliet Staveley

There’s a rather famous musician,

You simply can’t igNORA,

A bewitching bewhiskered Bartók,

Whose many fans adore her.


She has her own piano,

A Yamaha, if you please,

And happily plays for an audience,

By pawing (nearly) all the right keys


A silvery striped sensation,

She performs a great duet,

Or solo too, if that’s your thing,

How talented can you get?


Of course it’s a serious business,

She practices every day,

And follows greats like Betssorgsky,

Who inspire her to play.



Her favourites are G. Purrcini,

Depussy and Meozart,

The renditions are world famous,

She’s touched a million hearts.


And when her concerts are over,

She larks with best pal Max,

Or poses for manager Burnell,

Who takes her PR snaps.


It’s tough to be this gifted,

And stardom can be such a bore

But Nora, we simply implore ‘er,

Please tinkle forevermore!



Nora’s Gift

by Karen Batesole

The tinkling of piano keys

once wafted

through the air

when no one

was around to play.

What could it be down there?


Downstairs there sat a Nora cat

and innocent, she played,

as little paws revealed her gift

through music she had made.


Expressions of her little soul

so touch us

with her art,

for music is the soul’s best way

to reach

into the heart.


Nora’s Message

by Rosemary Gilbert

When I was a kitten, I played on floors,

batted at anything hanging from doors.

I ran up the sofa-sides, cute and sweet,

tho’ the sofa soon looked like Shredded Wheat!


One day, when I was inspecting my claws,

I heard music inside my paws!

Also a tiny voice which said:

“Play the piano – don’t go to bed.”


That’s really how it all began,

to the piano-stool I ran.

Made myself comfy and

plunked on the keys.


Oh, the glory of it all!

Far more fun than tossing a ball.

Better still than watching fish

I’d been granted my dearest wish.


A humble tabby, my joy abounds

I now make lovely musical sounds.

Half of the world knows me by name

Soon, the Pussycat Hall of Fame!




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