Cat Tales

His tounge slurps over the hair.
He grinds his teeth in sometimes
While kneading and purring.
The hair is everywhere now.
A clump rests over his eye.
I pick it off
As he looks at me
With strange olive eyes.
He lays down yet once more,
Done for the day.
Nothing to think of,
No bills to pay,
No deadlines to meet.
By habit, he decides
When to sleep
And when to eat.
Those eyes look at me again.
How strange we humans must
Look to him.
We rush, we work, and never play.
We eat and sleep when
Our jobs permit...
Never done for the day.
We have one life to get it right,
And yet he has nine.
He came to me with his toy.
He wants to play...
I think I'll cancel that appointment.