Big
Fat
Black
Cat,
Think you've got the upper hand.
'Thing’s goin'
'cordin'
To your plan.
Lurkin' 'round without a care.
Sittin' there so laissez-faire.
So you sharpen up your claw
And take the time to - lick - your - paw.
I glanced you -
Out the corner of my eye.
Stay there on my porch in wait
And lie.
Suddenly,
I flung open my porch door and released
My dog.
To give you chase and disturb your peace.
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Love the poem and the sentiments!
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