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This poem was a gift from my cats... |
What is it like, being a cat? Would I know thin? Would I know fat? What about the difference between mouse and rat? ![]() ![]() Things with long tails scurry about on the ground, revealing their presence through movement and sound, which is especially good when the sound’s from a hound, For from that sound I’d run ![]() And find me the nearest safe spot in the sun where I can just lie and watch spider webs spun, then drift off to sleep to dream of pure fun Like ![]() licking other cats’ faces, & thinking the only thing better than a really good chase is sniffing up catnip and tossing shoelaces Until the long lazy hours of daylight are done ![]() ![]() when my claws are as sharp as my nocturnal sight And then, just because, if the feeling is right, I’d find me a feline and get into a fight with snarling and scratching and sounds impolite, until one of us gives up and takes off in fright ![]() ![]() to their great delight, settle down in soft covers feeling all right, curling up tight, having earned my respite ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |