Ginger the Winger

Home is where I lay my head,

A pillow, a quilt, a comfy bed.

A snug place for my plump cat Ginger,

A leader of the meowers, a bit of a lingerer. 

He’s part of the family; we love him dearly,

Perched on the windowsill watching me nearly.

His ears perk up I step through the door,

He skedaddles across the floor with a joyful uproar.

Tail high, weaving and slinking between my legs,

Human, where’s my grub? This king never begs.

‘Now be patient my lazy fur ball, let me hang up my jacket,

Then you can settle in your basket and cease causing this racket.’

‘But Human, I’ve been so busy sleeping up an appetite,

And it’s bedtime soon, when I’ll bid you goodnight.’

‘Oh, what a wonderful life you have, my slothful friend.’

‘But Human, it’s surely my feline right to defend.’

‘Enough of this chatter, Human, pass me my food,

Or this lion will roar, showing a wildcat mood.’

I care not if it’s tuna, chicken or beef -

My belly’s rumbling, Human, where is my relief?’

‘Do stop your whimpering, I can’t keep pace.’

‘Here you go Ginger, now feed your hungry face.’

‘Thank you kind Human, meaty morsels I will chew.’

But Human, you’re still here - be off, shoo shoo!’

‘All done, I feel droopy, Human, where shall I rest?’

I already know – your bed is the best.’

‘Human, I am so tired, bereft of all energy,’

I yearn to dream of more food; it’s all about me!’