I survey my kingdom, bushes, grass and trees,
My eyes are keen to catch the slightest twitch,
My nose is primed to catch scents on the breeze
Like me, the Feline Menace is a bitch.
For when our borders daily I patrol,
And I flush out the hissing, fluffy foe,
The Idiots in Charge think it’s a stroll,
And though I yank, they never let me go.
And emtpy-pawed though I return from hunt,
The Idiots assuage my pain with treats,
Such paltry offerings are an affront
And yet, my stomach orders me to eat.
And though with feline presence I’m obtruded,
I find small comfort still in being fooded.