The Warm Spot

Tiger, our cat, sometimes a sneaky little brat
Not allowed on our bed // he had to scat
Thought he was slick pulling all his tricks
As he paced, and scowled, and pitched his fits.
Slick guy thought he’d pull the fuzz
Thinking we wouldn’t know what he does
When we left him there all alone.
*
Up on the bed he jumped
Purring on his high spot on the hump.
When the key turned in the front door lock
Off the bed he thumped and took his spot…
Giving us that sly little happy meow
Thinking he pulled a fast one on us now.
But we were one step ahead of that sneaky cat;
For at the foot of the bed where Tiger sat,
Was a tale-tale warm spot //imagine that!

 

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, our prompt is everything Feline! We had Tiger for fifteen years. He was very special in spite of his quirky antics. We loved him very much and were very sad when he died. This poem is a blend of ornery and cute. Great memories for sure.

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