I don't like being me sometimes,
slumped here
on the carpet, cocking my ears
every time someone shuffles or shifts their feet,
thinking could be going walkies or getting grub
or allowed to see
if the cat's left more than a smell
on her plate.
She's never refused, that cat! Sometimes
I find myself
dreaming (twitching my eyes, my fur)
of being just
say half as canny as her, with her pert miaow,
her cheeky tail
flaunting! These people sprawled
in armchairs
gawping at telly, why don't they play ball
with me
or enjoy a good nose-licking, eh?
By
Matt Simpson
