Round orbs of sapphire-like gold,
As wise the old,
Fur as smooth as silk,
There favorite thing to drink is milk.
Lovable creatures that we hold dear,
We always want to remain near.
Being playful is there nature as pets,
They dread no place more than the vets.
They creep up on you when you least expect,
Although in time you come to respect,
Them for there curious nature,
Of being cats.
Fear grips some people like superstition,
But to other that is a different division.
There long bushy tails itch your face,
Gosh, sometimes wish they would give you some space.
Begging for food so they plead,
You feel sorry and so you must feed.
Life without them is so dull and grey,
I wish they would come back and always stay.
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