By Clarence Holm
Feline prowler of a family’s lair,
Pampered daily, with great flair.
Coyly disregarding a parlor game,
With no suitable sense of shame.
Finicky sniffer of salmon filet
Pushed aside to my dismay.
Every whim, of course, was heeded.
Something crispy apparently is needed.
Tufts of fur whirl in space
Settling on my favorite place.
Lint brush carried in either hand
Even then I feel out-manned.
Idyllic rumblings perched upon my lap
Holding me prisoner in her trap.
Tail waiving in my face
Let’s everyone know this feline’s place!