Oliver The Cat Poem by Donna Caldwell

My owner is called Lindsey and is ever so mean
Last night I sat and watched her eat her very last bean
She was teasing me cos she gave me no tea
She waved it in my face and was laughing at me

It was Friday night that’s why I’d not been fed
She was using all her money to go out instead
Oh I’d be fed tomorrow no doubt about that
I would be left with her chinese leftovers not fit for a rat

She thinks it’s my favourite but I’m not a fool
Still I eat it all up and try to act cool
Then I run up the stairs to spit it out
But she is right up after me to give me a clout

Oliver that’s your favourite food
Well it’s the nastiest thing that I’ve ever chewed
Now get down those stairs and stay out of my way
You can stay in your basket for the rest of the day

Later she says Oliver you poor little cat
I’m sorry for clouting your head like that
Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you some dinner
I can’t believe my luck I must be onto a winner

Then she brings out this tin and I try not to weep
Because it’s that disgusting muck she gets ever so cheap
Now what will I do because I’ll be ill after that
She places it before me and gives me a pat

I look at the food with utter dismay
And use it instead as a litter tray
I run out the door which is open now
And I’ll never go back to that stingy old cow