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.