I had a cat which never scratched or bit Her manners were perfection , I can say But on the stairs she lay and fell asleep So tripped me up when I had got a tray
She always knew when I had a new dress For she would leap down from the window sill And she would try to milk the fabric pure Till I had threads and holes where she had pulled.
She used her scratching post when we were home Yet when we went away, she disobeyed For we found scratches on the sofa arms Where she had exercised the right to play
Yet when she died we missed her very much So now she’s sitting on the sofa, stuffed