I’m not much of a poet. But Lupin is not much of a cat.

Lupin, a Long-Hair

I am a kitty with fur so fine

I sit on your things to prove that they’re mine

I know that you love me because I’m divine

I love you too but won’t give you a sign

You scream at dead mousies? I’ll bring you some more

You don’t need these books, right? I’ll knock them to the floor

You’re trying to sleep now? I’ll scratch on this door

You cleaned up my fur dread? I’ll just shed four

When your stepkids pet me I’ll scratch at their faces

When your husband gets dressed I’ll eat his bootlaces

When you drop your elastics I’ll hide them in places

When you invite friends in I’ll lick without graces

Because I’m the queen I must always be free

Because there’s a window I must climb up to see

Because I’m the kitty I’ll tell you the key

Because you’re my person you must always love me

(This sketch is from an exercise in the Trickster’s Hat that I did not do properly. But it’s a nice sketch of a cat much more lovable than the one in whose honor I dashed these verses.)