Gosh darn it! Here we go again.
It’s four a.m. and I want to pray
but my cat’s not having any of that
today. Food – that’s what he craves.

I get a tin, pop the lid and yuck.
It’s that stinky stuff I can’t stand.
Ocean whitefish and tuna pate.
My little guy thinks it’s grand.

He gobbles it down and smacks his lips.
This makes me think I can sit with Jesus
but my cat wants more of that awful crap
that smells so bad I keep it in the fridge.

So I get up and give him some more of it
to which he turns up his little pink nose.
You see, the problem is that it’s cold.
Five seconds in the microwave does the trick.

Now the air smells like someone took a
you-know-what, but my cat’s happy
wolfing down his rancid seafood feast
to which, by God, I have to hold my nose.

I’ve been told that dogs have masters
while cats have servants and I, too, must
confess to being burdened with a feline pest.
In fact, he’s purring right now on my chest.