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The Cat Rules the Roost

A Poem

By Mother CombsPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read
Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Come in, sit down

Not there or there

Those are my spots

Yes, you can sit there

I’m glad you could

Come to visit

I’m Klingon, the cat

Mother Combs is gone

Right now to the store

To fetch me some milk

My lazy human let me

Run right out

I told her to get me some

Fresh fish and some chicken

But she never listens

I’ll be lucky to get some

Canned Fancy Feast

For my dinner tonight.

Would you like a snack?

A mouse, perhaps?

Or maybe you’d like

A slice of cheese?

Watch out

Too late, you bumped my

Ball of yarn, and I can’t

Resist playing with all

That stringy goodness.

While we are at it,

Do you mind winding

Up that little toy right there?

I have a hankering to pounce

Something right now.

I know you can’t stay long

So, on your way out the door

If you wouldn’t mind

Too much. Could you

Would you open

The cage door on that

Darn parrot. He mouthed me

For the last time.

I thank you kindly

And I’ll be sure to tell

Mother Combs you

Stopped by.

She’ll be upset she missed you

But she has a lot of work to do today

What with cleaning my litterbox

Grooming my fur

Handfeeding me my kibble

And treating me like the god I am.

Well, bye now. Have a good day.

I have some napping to catch up on

And I’ve decided you are in my chair after all.

humorsurreal poetryperformance poetrynature poetryfact or fiction

About the Creator

Mother Combs

Come near, sit a spell, and listen to tales of old as I sit and rock by my fire. I'll serve you some cocoa and cookies as I tell you of the time long gone by when your Greats-greats once lived.

AB

Admin = ViM

LYLAS

Mike Judey Dharr Grz Jay

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    Written by Mother Combs