pitter pat

Pitter pat goes the cat,
as he descends the stairs,
little paws on the floor,
prying at the cupboard doors.

You see him sitting by the vent,
he sticks his paws in closer to the warms,
"You don't want to be inside there.", I say.
He stays nearby there almost all day.

It's either there or in the sun,
or on the blanket that is for guests.
Or on the green chair in front of the desk,
as soon as I stand up to stretch.

"You've taken my chair!", I say in falsetto,
He looks innocent like nothing is amiss.
I set down my coke and move him to the couch,
and make sure I give him a nudge and a kiss.

Pitter pat goes the cat,
as he is coming in to see me.
We have a chat but no matter what I say,
it's "Crunchies, crunchies, crunchies!"

"Do you want dinner?", I ask him pleasantly.
"Crunchies!", he says in return.
We go into the kitchen, he's always there first,
He likes the food, though it smells the worst.

Later at night he talks to himself,
and runs around and attacks his post.
And all these things are the reason why,
he's the coolest and I love him the most.