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Do Not Give Missy Mob Salami
He is a bit unusual, you will have to eat outside, my pet.
I was warned, but still, did not understand quite yet.
It was a blind date, and he came wearing a Russian hat.
But wait, it was not a Russian hat at all, it was a huge cat.
You must be Shirley, he said. He had a lovely sweet smile.
I am glad to meet you. May I sit down for a while?
We had a lovely conversation about the weather and my job.
He introduced me to his Cat her name was Missy Mob.
Missy Mob hissed at me a couple of times after my food came late.
Don’t mind her, he told me, she is angry she does not have a plate.
I offered to give her a bite of salmon, but he said an emphatic no.
She will get feisty on my head, and then I will have to go.
At the end of the date we each pretended we would meet again.
I knew I’d rather jump off a cliff into a wild starving wolf’s pen.
I imagine he also knew this would be the last time we would say “hi”.
I have to admit I could not wait to tell this weirdo a strong good-bye.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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