Showing posts with label Mr. Sam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr. Sam. Show all posts

Friday, June 21, 2024

Our Cavalier


Mr. Sam (a few months old)

You walked in,

blue-eyed and hungry,

nothing to your name,

and robbed us, just like that.


Well, that’s not entirely true—

you had the name we’d given you.


But, you do nothing,

much, in return.


Also not entirely true, as

we hear you working for us, tirelessly,

at odd hours in the office,

pressing buttons on the printer

(surely someone must test these things in the dark).


And, as a bonus, Siamese are long-storied eloquent

articulators, especially when breakfast

isn’t as early as it could be.  Who doesn’t

love chatter early in the morning before coffee?


Speaking of breakfast, if ever a fly treads

on our (your) domain: beware fly!!  You are toast!

An immeasurable talent.


At Christmas, who else knocks

the dangerous-looking ornaments

off the tree to protect us? 

Bites through the wiring

on the lights to save us from the blinking?


When we get up at night for a sip of water,

who else but you jumps out

and gives us a “gentle” swat

to keep us on our toes

in case there’s ever a real intruder?


Plus, you fetch, as good as a Labrador

in water (ours, of course, does not see you

the way we do, giving us the “I told you so” look

when you get a mild, insincere scolding).


But, never mind all that.  When you curl up with us,

it’s a visit from royalty,

and we won’t budge or flinch,

so you don’t leave for a cozier spot,

delighted we are The Chosen.


Now, Mr. Sam (how did you do that, too? 

You’re Mister Sam to us now?),

what may we get you, puss in boots? 

More treats?  A feather-plumed hat?  A rapier? 

Why bother with that—you’ve already slayed us

with your purrfect charms.



© 2024 Jennifer Wagner


I love this rascal!


For Sherry’s Un-Fairy Tales prompt.  She said it’s wide open, so this is where it took me.