Well - I am trying. How long I can keep it up when I feel so dissatisfied with the results I don't know. But here is an offering:
There are pampered ones
who spend their days
on velvet cushions; all their ways
indulged by doting owners, who
fulfil their every whim.
While we impartial ones, we know
that no-one owns a cat.
There are those with chewed-up ears,
with missing bits of fur
and scars on face and nose.
It's those - the tough guys -
who roam the gardens, steal the food,
rely on no-one, walk alone
and have no home
save where they choose to stay.
Then there are the ordinary ones
who have their bowls, their toys, cushions,
who wander in and out through flaps
and deign to accept the strokes - and laps.
They all share one thing, you'll agree,
if they want something from you or me,
they'll walk ahead, they'll trip you up,
they'll make you listen, let you see,
that really they own you.
And they'll make very sure each day
it stays that way.