by Ruth S. Baker
“Grumpy Cat, the internet’s most famous cat, dead at 7”
The door gets opened when I please.
I prowl the whole night long,
Then sleep on warm computer keys.
You think I’m happy? Wrong.
I’ve pricey sofas for my claws
Plus Frank Lloyd Someone’s chairs,
All mine for shredding into straws.
I sit on saints. Who cares?
Oh, here we go. You think, perchance,
Scared mouse for every meal
And snacks of prized umbrella plants
Impress me? Please. Big deal.
I have to eat and mate and doze
Then do it all again.
Dear God! One hardly even knows
To whom one can complain.