tuxedo boycat
has learnt the art
of the early morning
tap slap

when one slumbers soundly
only to be rudely and roundly
awoken by the none too gentle
smack on the nose, by a catpaw
often not smelling like a rose
accompanied by a yowly growl
of a starving kitten cat
who has half a cup of chicken
kibble already awaiting in a bowl

but desires wetraw mince
and company to dine...

oh to have the confidence
in  desires like that
of a four pound kitten cat
and the knowledge
that the cute factor
far outweighs the
outrage of the human
being awoken by
the slap tap
of a kitten paw
as  long as it
comes with
a head bump
and a purr roar