Conversations With the Cat
There's a fresh new scratch
on my leather chair.
It isn't the first,
so why do I care.
I see there's a moth
flying 'round my head.
Since you scratched the chair,
that moth should be dead.
Bugs and insects,
that's your chore.
With what your food costs,
I should expect more.
When the kids were five
they picked up their toys,
went to bed on time
and without any noise.
You, fuzzy face,
have toys everywhere
and all of the furniture's
covered with hair.
You sleep and sleep
'til its time for bed
then you want to play
or meow instead.
My kids say
you're the spoiled child
and it's my fault.
my discipline's grown mild.
I wonder sometimes
why I put up with you.
You are a rascal
through and through.
You run me ragged
and that's for sure
and to get your way
you just start to purr.
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