A Spoiled Old Mog

From cosy, sleep perhaps a dream The scent of rabbit cooking slow It tickles at my nose and so My eyes open to kitchen’s beam My dish is high and so I leap To watch the pot just take a peep I am the cat that has the cream. But no I’m told, I have to wait It is too hot and I will burn It smells so good, around I turn A gentle purr, anticipates I’m hungry now and I want stew No that tinned food just will not do Another purr, give me the plate! I am the cat who gets the best A spoiled old mog I hear her say Her familiar here to stay As on her lap, I take my rest She stares at pages of a book I lift my head and take a look More things to cook, she is the best! JF, 08 March 2011