by Kenneth Parrish
She's such a fancy indoor cat
Sitting regally on my lap,
Purring when I stroke her fur-
Refined, docile, and so demure.
And though I love her company
I often wonder what she'd be
If she were left to run around
Upon the grassy outside ground.
With loving care we give her food
And everything that fits her mood-
But would she rather be outside
Where all the other wild reside?
Would she rather stalk the fields
With all the tasty varmint yeilds,
To chase the flaunty little birds
And lick the residue of curds?
I questioned her that catty way
And she looked at me as if to say-
I'm quite contented on your lap
Now please be quiet so I can nap!
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