About my mother’s cat, Garfield, aka Mini The Moocher, rundown less than two years old.
Tabby tom kitten
Orange bundle of mischief,
Climbing on cupboards
To rouse the sleeping household,
Then sleeping through the daytime.
Garbage can moocher
Furry young tight-rope walker,
Balancing on high
In hope of finding morsels,
Of sweet taste treats left behind.
Tiny scavenger
Grown up to be a tiger,
Regal in his way
Mown down in his second year,
By a car that did not stop.
THE END
(c) Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts, Melbourne, Australia
Currently there are no comments related to "The Death of Mini the Moocher". You have a special honor to be the first commenter. Thanks!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
