Like a postman named Pat,
I do have a friend,
a black and white cat,
who I shall defend,
although, she claws me,
from time, to time,
she is always hungry,
as such, is feline.
The old man and I,
take it in turns,
to serve Hattie,
making some purrs,
she isn’t even ours,
next door is her home,
but when there are showers,
to her; we atone,
to fill our spirits,
with comfort and joy,
saying, “we’re not gits,
we’re happy boys!”
She knows when we’re ill,
hence, she’s by our sides,
showing her loving skill,
to make us better guides,
for her, in her little life,
we’ll try to maintain bliss,
to keep her away from strife,
to her, our longing kiss.
She is sure to bring,
her dead rodent presents,
and, a bird, with ripped wings,
will be her way; of pleasance,
while, her song; may be morbid,
in our way, we’ll appreciate,
we don’t want to distort this,
thus, we’ll continue to fill her plate,
as her kind affection,
for us, is very much needed,
as to ignore her attention,
will leave our hearts bleeding.
Thus, a vote of thanks, we do cast,
to our furry little pal,
she has earned her Felix packs,
that go down so well,
there’s not much left to say,
other than; if you’re feeling flat,
brighten up your day,
by getting; a black and white cat.