Frisky Fish Cafe
Frisky Fish Café, cat-owned, the yellow sign said.
How could they be frisky? They are decidedly dead.
I told my cousin Whisker Wipes to go on ahead.
By the time I arrived his face was puffed stop sign red.
There are apparently shellfish in their kitty bread.
Instead of feasting, I drove him to the hospital instead.
He spoke about the merits of the place from his hospital bed.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2020
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