I’m hungry and thirsty, in need of a poop.
What’s that on the wall? A hairball? A fly?
My sand smells, it’s dirty, in need of a scoop.
Could I reach that there shelf if I gave it a try?
I’ve seen all these spaces, I’ve been here before.
I’m bored of this house, and its slick hardwood floor.
I yearn to stalk, wander like a gruff outdoor
Cat who hunts his own mice, spews them out by the door.
What’s that in the corner, with a fluttering wing?
It’s a moth! It’s a moth! I’ll pounce on that critter!
I’ll nab it and swat it and chew on that thing!
I got it! I got it! Though it tastes somewhat bitter.
What’s that on the floor? A long piece of floss!
I’ll fling it and chase it and toss it about!
I’ll show that damn string who here is the boss,
And chew it and swallow in case there was doubt.
Aha! A great sound! An intruder’s approaching!
But alas, the sound fades; this won’t be the day.
If ’twas a great feline who attemped encroaching,
I’d hiss and I’d spit, watch him slither away.
But hark! A sunbeam appears over yonder!
I shall lay belly-up, and bathe in its ray.
And later that napkin will I tear asunder,
A fair way as any of passing the day.
Oh where is my human? I need a good chuckle!
I’d walk on his chest and yowl in his ear
And rub my fierce canines against his bear knuckle.
Though I loathe my oaf captor, I wish he were here.