Miss Muffins is a
corpulent cat--
A trait she hasn't
really bemoaned.
However, she likes
to see herself
Not as obese, but
rather…big boned.
Big boned she isn't.
Let's be frank.
But BIG she is:
twenty-five pounds!
Once she discovered la bonne vie,
She put on weight in
leaps and bounds.
The first time
guests encounter Miss Muffins,
Their comments might
sound picayune,
For they remark in
disbelief,
"I didn't know
you had a raccoon!"
Miss Muffins, who is
highly offended,
Would love to dash
from the room in disdain,
But since her
poundage limits her movement,
Such an attempt
would be in vain.
As long as she can
lie by the window
And warm herself
with the rays of the sun,
She doesn't have a
care in the world
And wonders what
could be more fun.
It's been a few
years since Miss Muffins
Could jump up onto
the bed or couch.
Her last attempt: a
complete disaster.
She hit the floor
with a thud and an "Ouch!"
Now she merely sits
by the sofa
And looks up at her
masters and cries,
As if to say,
"Help me, please;
You could use the
exercise."
There she curls
up into a ball
And dreams of
manifold savory things--
Things like tuna,
goat cheese, sardines,
Chicken gizzards,
and turkey wings.
If a mouse enters
the room,
She says, "Ah,
Mousie, I'm not in the mood.
Go ahead and eat
what you like;
Just stay far away
from all of my food!"
The only time Miss
Muffins will run--
Well, sort
of--happens each day when
She hears her
masters call "Kitty, Kitty."
She knows its
dinnertime again.
After her meal, Miss
Muffins finds
A comfy place in the
house to rest.
According to her
theory, that
Is how one lets her food digest.
When little children
come to visit,
Poor Miss Muffins
lets out a moan.
"Why," she
asks, "do they have to tickle
And prod me? Make
them leave me alone!"
The best way to win
her affection
Is simply to give
her something to eat.
You will become best
friends forever
By offering her a
tasty treat.
If, however, you
give her a taste
Of something she
hates, she'll be quite candid.
You will know that
you have erred,
For you'll be
severely reprimanded.
Every so often, Miss
Muffins hears
Something that fills
her with great disquiet:
When she's at her
doctor's office,
A four-letter word
is mentioned: diet.
"Ah, it's time to
change the subject,"
Thinks Miss Muffins.
"Lovely weather."
To counter unwanted
suggestions, she knows
We all have to band
together.
“Okay,” Miss Muffins
now concedes,
"I admit I’m a
weight-challenged cat."
She can accept that
label, but
Whatever you do,
don't call her fat.
-by Bob B (2-18-20)
(photo from online
source)