Just A Cat

He’s laying at my feet,

soft, black, and sweet.

Some scoff, he’s just a cat.

He looks at me and purrs,

and I stroke his velvet fur

as some sniff, “Isn’t he a little fat?”

But I don’t care and I don’t shift,

not even for an itch,

because I like it, where he’s at.

Even if he is, as they all say.

really,

just a cat.

4 thoughts on “Just A Cat

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  1. Aww, I love this! I have to stop and remember that Charles is just a cat sometimes and not human. We fight, he bites, I get mad at him, then when he doesn’t come when I call, I worry. These felines are so entrenched in our hearts and souls, they aren’t just pets, they are family.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Awwww … I can so relate. Sometimes when Ollie (the only one of our quintet who loves me) is lying contentedly in my lap, even when my legs go to sleep and pain shoots through them, I don’t budge, for I cannot bear to disturb him.

    Liked by 1 person

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