Back To the Barnyard

Back TO THE BARNYARD I slip outside, my tail a twirl where my whiskers test the breeze. Such disgusting cretins so uncouth and a few that make me sneeze. (HISS) I slink and skirt past porcine ones and the cows are crashing bores. yellow chicks, forbidden fruit or they’ll toss me out the door. (MEOW) I pause to sit, stare down the cock as he struts and preens for show I ought to bat him once for luck but those humans… well, you know. (YAWN) Off to work at my specialty: feline hunter-cruel and cold. My fur goes up and my ears go back For this mouse will not grow old. (MMMROW)