My cat, Perks, is an old curmudgeon,

Living life in a state of high dudgeon

One of four, he tolerates Bert and doesn’t mind Fatty

But when it comes to Patch he has nothing but enmity

Hissing and spitting and muttering wild,

Like a spoilt and thwarted detestable child



And he doesn’t like wind, hates cold and despises any rain

Preferring the indoors and associated bladder pain

Making his evident displeasure known

With flattened ears and a glowering frown.

If you call him standoffish you would understate the case

He hates a cuddle or stroke as you would see from his face



So that’s Perks, unsocial in every way…

…But then meet him at certain times each day,

He will twist and turn about your legs, acting as if your friend

Looking up with eyes of love, for he has a message to send:

“It’s getting on and my tum is empty,

Come on! Hurry up and FEED ME! FEED ME!”