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