Ode on an Orange Kitty

Thou perpetually hungry feline

Thou pumpkin-colored baby with pot-belly swinging

What shiny, white teeth you display

As you chew on my curtain cords

Dangling so tantalizingly in the sun

Will I be so fortunate as to catch a glance from you?

Perhaps even a rub against a leg?

What crumb of affection? What acknowledgement of my existence?

Ah, bold, hungry house tiger!

Deposing the more docile sibling from the throne

To claim it as your own as you rest your belly

And survey your kingdom

O whisker-face! Aloof puddy tat! with stubby tail

Borne of a mutation ages ago on the Isle of Man;

Thou art too cute for words and will forever suffer

The indignities of being held, squeezed, and kissed

Forever hear the words, “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a precious little baby??”