What makes the poem "Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes" humorous?

There are many humorous elements in Thomas Gray’s poem about a cat who drowns in a goldfish bowl.

One element that stands out is the language that Gray uses for the cat. Remember, the poem centers on a tabby. Yet Gray talks about the domestic animal as if it were a human. He gives the cat the traits and feelings of a typical person. He describes the cat as “pensive.” He calls it a “presumptuous maid.” You could say the disjunction between the subject and the language is humorous.

Another humorous element is the trajectory of the poem itself. You could say it’s funny—or ironic—that the predator cat turns into a victim. It’s like a reversal of roles, the kind you might see in a comedic movie or TV show.

A third humorous aspect is the rather religious theme of the poem. The goldfish are described as “angels.” The “flood” that kills the cat could be linked to the Great Flood depicted in Genesis. More so, the cat's appeal to “every watery god” mimics how a person might beseech a divine entity if they’re suddenly faced with death. It might seem overdramatic to attach religious symbology to this situation, yet the spiritual theatrics might also be what makes Gray’s poem quite funny.

You could also talk about the ways in which the rhyme schemes and the concluding moral contribute to the humor of the poem. The rhymes might add a bit of fun to the poem. The final moral might be Gray’s way of saying that morals themselves can be rather silly if you stop to think about them.

Can you explain the poem "Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes"?

The poem refers to a rather unfortunate incident in which a tabby cat by the name of Selima drowns in an ornamental bowl after a failed attempt to catch two goldfish. The cat's eye was caught by the fishes' glittering color, but as the speaker reminds us right at the end of the poem, all that glitters is not gold.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and it certainly does here. Unable to resist the temptation presented by the two little fishes, Selima keeps on trying to catch them until she accidentally plunges right into the bowl, quickly realizing that she's hopelessly out of her depth. She struggles to get out, lifting her head out of the water eight times and mewing loudly to the watery gods, who steadfastly refuse to come to her aid.

Like the great classicist he is, Gray uses figures from ancient Greek mythology such as nymphs and Nereids—daughters of the sea-god Nereus—to add color to what is basically a cautionary tale that warns us to look before we leap.

What was the cat doing before it died in "Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes"?

The poem opens with a pampered female cat named Selima, who lounges next to a beautifully painted vase. Happily reclining, she waves her tail and purrs with delight. Gazing down into a nearby pool of water, she spies two goldfish. Eagerly and unsuccessfully, she reaches for the fish. Then she tries a second time:

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch’d, again she bent.

Completely unaware of the depth of water between herself and her target, Selima

tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to every watery god,
Some speedy aid to send.

These final actions before her death—overconfidently overstretching and unsuccessfully crying for help eight times—satirically reinforce feline stereotypes.

First, Gray’s description of her as a “presumptuous maid” conjures up the image of a smug and prissy cat, which Selima seems to be. Greedy and impetuous, she stretches and contorts herself as a single-minded and determined (“intent”) predator. She ignores or is completely oblivious to any possible risks. The fact that she “tumbles headlong in” does belie the adage that a cat always lands on its feet. In reality, cats actually do have an innate ability called a “righting reflex,” which allows them to determine up from down while falling and thus right themselves in order to land on all four feet.

Second, Selima expends all of her nine lives. As a result of the “righting reflex,” cats often escape injury from falls and miraculously survive. In Selima’s case, she uses up her nine lives: one before she falls into the water, then eight—one for each time her head “emerges” from the water briefly in order to mew for help.

Finally, the fact that no one—no god or mortal—comes to her rescue emphasizes her aloofness, another feline stereotype. Sadly, Selima “has no friend!”