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On the shadows he awaits, As silent as the night, For the people in the house to sleep, Though they may not be church mice, None has bothered to feed him, not a piece of meat, not a bowl of milk. Their table was flooded, with Italian food, Chinese food, and McDonald’s chicken He had hoped to make the other cats jealous He was sure they had seen the table set, They were too snoopy not to have And when the children sat at the table, He made efforts to get their attention Purring like his life depended on it because it did, he would not die hungry He hoped it would work its magic; his purr was always a charm But not today; The children acted like they were deaf to his constant purrs and blind to his extensive “puppy” eyes They seemed totally oblivious to his presence Not even Peter, his friend, one who would pour milk in his bowl every morning All they paid their attention to was their filled plates And he had considered sitting in the darkness, under the sink, beside the cabinets, And now that they were ready for bed, having cleared their plates partially He was willing to strike; he was a king on a battlefield He could see the box of cake on the counter; he could smell the chocolate, Just a lick wouldn’t hurt anyone; they wouldn’t even know; But it was as sweet as honey, ’ and his hunger led him to devour more than what he had considered a lick Bite after bite, he finished the cake And when the household inquired about the birthday cake He knew he was the guilty
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