Joe Pivetti's Poetry, Haiku and Poesy: Poesy 3
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My cat is a brat too



 
Gatito loco, my cat,
Is still a brat
And I'm thankful for that.
He's gotten a bit older,
And a bit bolder.
He purrs like a pigeon
With his claws in my shoulder
(but never a meow, a yowl or a mew
because he's a Russian Blue).
Now he's developed a condition
That requires a dog lap to his muzzle
(its okay - its of her own volition).
Then he's properly prepared to sit on a crossword puzzle.
Followed by a good face rub
On a pen clip or nub.
Then its to the lap
To imitate a Heinlein Flatcat.
He sleeps a bit longer
And he jumps a bit shorter,
Unless he's bristled for string
or laser light chasing -
That he attacks with conviction,
And feline precision.
Sometimes he bites..children, repairmen
And grandfathers...but...mostly me (amen).
Yes...he is still a brat,
But man, what a cat!



Copyright 2019 by Joe Pivetti