The Cat Nobody Wants
I want the cat nobody wants—
the kind that gives you scant response;
the cat that isn’t that much fun—
the cat desired by no one.
I want the cat no one adores—
the one who thinks dead moles are yours;
the cat who begs to share your food
then walks away, the meal half-chewed.
I want the cat with buggy ears—
the cat who’s gotten up in years;
the one who fails to give you mirth—
who’s more trouble than what he’s worth.
The cat who always looks depressed
but doesn’t want to be caressed;
the cat that bites you on the hand—
that is the cat I understand.
I want the cat who’s always dour—
the one who wrecks the furniture;
I want the cat put in a cage
and taken some place he won’t age.
I want the cat nobody loves—
the cat untouched by incentives;
because that’s what’s become of me,
I know we’ll make good company.