If I Should Die Before I Wake

Females are a mystery
(The feline kind, at any rate).
She scolds, but what’s she want from me?
She won’t explain, she’ll just berate.
I’d like to help, I really would,
But all I hear is whine, whine, whine.
She glares as if I’ve understood.
We both agree: The fault is mine.
I guess at what I think she’s said,
Apologize for falling short,
And hope tonight when I’m in bed
She doesn’t murder me for sport.
Please note: The “she” here is my cat.
I trust we’re all quite clear on that.


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