The kitten seeks.
Warmth, play and feeding
fulfil his dreams.
He paws the page the child is reading
and prepares to pounce
on his own elusive shadow.
I am constantly putting him out.
Somehow the children know
and let him back in.
He is the star of his own show
as he flips, crouches, vaults.
But the terms are his;
he will not play ball...
unless the ball jingles.
He rests in the slimmest shaft of sunlight
or on a cosy lap.
On waking he stretches, wrestles and bites
and may curl into another nap.
This does not always suit the two girls.
I am reminded of another
three who just loved
waking their sleeping baby brother.
The irony, not lost on me;
the frustrations of a weary mother.
He purrs as if he houses
a tiny motor under his fleece
and a single mew rouses
actions to meet his every need.
Never doubt that this creature
is in charge;
He is your trainer and teacher,
you are just a pawn.
For all your adoration
you cannot reach the levels
befitting his station
so he simply worships himself.
He is only a pet to his own ends,
he cannot be bought;
he will eat and drink to his hearts content
then go without a grateful thought.
He will climb up high,
regardless of your rules,
and perch where he likes.
Small eyes are watching you
when the kitten hides.
