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Armitage Pod

Armitage Pod was a ‘cuddly’ cat
Who insisted on sleeping in the old bowler hat
His amplage cascaded right over the brim
Forming a blubble all around him.
He was big, he was bold and as fit as a flea,
That’s not what he looked like between you and me.
He appeared to the world as a tad overweight,
A description AP would most definitely hate.
He believed he was dapper, shapely and grand,
However this puss had got way out of hand.

At mealtimes his portions seemed really quite small,
It was measly cat food he was served after all.
Open the door you insensitive beast,
I need to get round to the neighbours to feast!
They are having a roast I can smell it from here,
If you don’t let me out I will miss my next meal.
Then dear Mrs Smith lets me join her for supper,
A fine piece of fish with some fresh bread and butter.
That puny cat flap doesn’t work anymore
So just be a dear now and open the door.

He poured out of the bowler and spilled onto the floor,
An ungainly descent landing square on all fours,
His poor joints absorbing the brunt of the fall,
Shocks needed fitting to each of his paws.
Whilst trying to flee to the neighbours for dinner
He ran straight through a ghastly tray of cat litter.
You best not be thinking that I will use that!
My throne is outside, don’t you know I’m a cat.
I reign on high at the top of the gardens,
Your shocking faux pas I might possibly pardon.

Now be a good chap, let me be on my way,
There are pickings out there, far too many to say,
I didn’t become such a fine striking figure
By eating the food you dish up for my dinner.
It took quite some time for the horror to dawn
No way was this puss getting out on the lawn,
For the sake of his health, now confined to the house,
With no tasty morsels not even a mouse,
He sat in the corner very solemn and quiet,
Poor old AP had been put on a diet.
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