The Cat Who Thinks He Owns the Chair
He is always my boss. I know I should be more assertive
The Cat Who Thinks He Owns The Chair
I bought this chair, I paid in full,
It swivels, rocks, and screams “old school.”
It’s padded nice, it hugs my spine,
Or did, till that cat declared, “It’s his.”
He slinks right in with royal flair,
A little king with matted hair.
He lifts one leg, he yawns, he flops,
Then looks at me like, “Don’t even try to.”
I tried to shoo him with a fan,
He stared like I was not his mam.
I clapped, I stomped, I waved a shoe,
He blinked once slow, like, “That’s all you got?”
I brought him fish. He gave me sass.
I jingled keys, he sat like brass.
I nudged him off, he dug in deep,
Then curled right back and fell asleep.
He knows I’ll lose. He always wins.
He naps through news, my coughs, my sins.
He’s stretched out long, the chair’s his bed,
And I now sit cross-legged on the floor instead
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
I know dogs like that. When I read your title, it reminded me of a series of mystery novels 'The Cat Who". Do not remember wrote them- but here is a sample title I just thought of -- The Cat Who wrote the book of food. (Not a real title.)