MoP 4: The love of a cat

I have two cats, a senior citizen called Brando and a juvenile delinquent named Fry. I love them both to bits, and since I can't get away with making every single poem a whinge about not having time to write poems, I thought today's effort could be an ode to their loveliness:

The love of a cat

He sits on the top step every morning

waiting for me to open the door

purrs as he creaks down six green steps

and grunts as he hits the concrete floor.

He rubs and loves and purrs aplenty

as I fumble sleepily with his bowl

He breakfasts like a starving beast

then gazes up with eyes of gold.

He isn't always a perfect housemate

there are accidents, hisses and growls

He only eats the expensive brand

and there's soft black hair on all my towels.

But I wouldn't swap him for a fortune

for all the wonders under the sun

I wouldn't swap him for a baby

Because with him, I already have one.