He is smoky grey and white
held closely in her arms
he won’t approach as if to bite
like cats found in barns on farms.
He has an entertaining purr
And a quick and quiet run
He’ll use your leg to groom his fur
And mew for a treat when he’s done.
He’ll make friends with mice and sparrows
And bring them home alive
And when his gaze narrows
It’s not to hunt but to survive.
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