First Poem to achieve a negative score on the Pritchard Scale

The Cat sat on the Mat.

Caught a glimpse of a mouse
running through the house. 

Leapt up and darted halfway 
across the room;  only to 
slam into the bristles 
of a large sweeping broom.

Fell back, looking stunned as 
if caught by surprise; then 
returned to the mat with a 
heavy sigh. 

Not getting up from my perch 
again.  My owner will just have
to get used to my mousy friends. 

Curled up in a ball, the cat 
set out to sleep; turning a blind 
eye to all that creeps.