The Cat

The cat sat on the mat, he sat on my hat,

He sat on my mothers gold ring.

He sat on the chair, he sat on my hair,

He sat on every damn thing.

He walked on the bed, he walked on my head,

He walked on my laptop keyboard;

And you could see when he walked over me,

He walked like a Cat over Lord.

He scratched at the door, he scratched on the floor,

He scratched on my bed at night.

He sharpened his claws without even a pause,

Upon everything in sight.

He jumps out at me every morning at three,

When Im on my way to the loo.

He wakes me at eight, because he cant wait,

To greet the new day with a mew.

He grabs at my legs and practically begs,

If his dinner is five minutes late.

He sits and he stares, he really just glares,

If I dont feed him off of my plate.

He walks with great ease on the piano keys,

And thinks it a fine melody.

And if you should look like reading a book,

Hell come turn your pages for free.

Although hes a pain, and hes really quite vain,

I cant help but love him a bit.

His fluffy white fur and rich throaty purr,

Make up for him being such a git.

After all, hes a cat. And thats that!

~Amanda Ferreira