The Cats Tale (Part Two)

I’m so fed up with these new rules
Put in place by the human fools
I used to stretch against the door
And drag my claws down to the floor
But since they threw against MY wall
This stripey stuff
(Forgot what it’s called)
If I even sniff at it
The girly one she throws a fit
And tells the man to keep an eye
on what I’m up to all the time

~

But when she’s out
He falls asleep
I do what I want
I don’t hear a peep
I sniff and scratch just where I want
Though I do prefer my usual haunts
And when he wakes all bleary eyed
And sees the gouges
Etched with pride
I know he’ll fetch the marker pen
And then they will be gone again

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Enter Stage Left

He’d tippy toed inside the door
Ears cocked against the roar of
“What have you done to my bloomin floor!”
The brand new carpet was proving a chore

Of course it was beautiful to look at
But he really felt that himself and the poor cat
Were unfairly blamed under this roof
For spilling stuff
Where was her proof?

Now from what he could hear, the piece of fat
He’d lovingly sneaked out for aforementioned cat
Although placed kindly in his dish
He’d carried it through like a death wish and masticated defiantly…

Upon the new carpet for her to see

Whilst the air turned blue
And her face purple
The cat chose this moment to puke up a fur ball!
Then they’d both scarpered
Scared by her wrath
Each of them choosing a different path

From his hiding place he’d heard her shrieking
Spied the cat running past like a wild thing

Taking his chance he’d sauntered in
Casually asking “What’s all this din?”
Whilst drawing his horrified gaze to the floor
The cat now behind him beginning to purr

If he was clever he could blame her
A “what have you done? ” hung unsaid in the air
And the cat weaved a victory lap round the chair

Though he’d only realised that he’d won
When through her gritted teeth there shone
A smile intended to diffuse HIS grief
Because here was the proof…

It lay beneath

Ugly and wretched and threatening to stain

The upper hand was his for a change

The Cats Tale

Pretty boy, pretty boy! watch him playing with his toys,
Pretending that they hear him speak
With his stupid little beak!
~
They used to look at me that way.
Hang on every mew I’d make,
Never raised their voice to say
“Leave him Georgie, let him play”
~
Flying round above my bed,
Dropping feathers on my head
And this strange stuff called Budgie poop?
I swear one landed in their soup.
~
At least he doesn’t share my food
that would be 

TOO MUCH, 

TOO RUDE!
~
I climbed upon the chair last week and leaned against his cage to peek.
Never again, the fuss they made!
You’d of thought their pretty boy got slayed?
~
It’s been 4 months since he arrived.
He’s grown quite large in that short time and he’s learned a really pretty song, I fall asleep before too long. 
~
And swear you won’t tell anyone?
He’s really quite a lot of fun!
And when we’re alone he talks to me…

Tells me how I’m Sooo pretty

~
I watch him hop about his cage, a little green rebel buzzed with rage.
Plotting where to bomb his poop,
When he finally escapes his coup!

~

So yes I admit, I like his style and here’s something that made me smile, now that we’re both in cahoots

~

Turned out I’m right about that soup!