D. A. Smith Writes

Photo by Mikhail Vasilyev on Unsplash

Why can’t you get it through your thick head?

That when you’re lying in bed, I assume you’re dead.

I make sure it’s true by touching your face with my paw.

And, then you swat me away with a pillow, and I jump back in awe.

So, human where is my food, since you live another day?

I don’t hear the can opening and my food is not on display.

Where’s my plaything, the one with the red light?

It makes me so happy when I catch it, ooh, there it is on my right!

Now, I’m tired human, I’m done with this game.

I sit on my sill staring at the birds playing outside my window pane.

Give me some freedom, let me out the door.

I’ll rip one of their heads off, and leave you a present on your floor.

Now, it’s getting close to my mid-morning nap.

Come, grab your book, your cup of hot water, and let me lay on your lap.

Don’t scratch behind my ears, just stroke my neck gently.

Avoid my tail, if it twitches, I’ll make you regret it dearly.

Oh no, nature calls, I need to take care of my business.

Here, clean my waste, human, I do not care for this mess.

Ah, the day is nearly over, and now it’s time to enjoy my tree.

But, wait for a second, don’t go to sleep, without feeding ME!!!

Photo by Taylor Grote on Unsplash