Ripping and pulling, this way and that,
Scratching and tearing, what’s got into that cat?
Never have I seen a small feline so queer,
He slinks and he howls as drinks my last beer.
Middle claw extended, he watches the game,
Hissing vulgarities, mocking players by name.
What could have made such a good cat go wrong?
It must be that dreaded cat-nip packed bong.
It’s a “gateway drug, ” which leads to much sorrow,
Cat-nip today, dog bones tomorrow.
A generation of kitties, who’ve all lost their way,
Tell Mr. Whiskers to “just say no” today!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem