Cat Tales

His tongue 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.