I’m not sure if she’s a stray, or abandoned, or if this lovely lady is just a six-dinner Sid.

She sits and waits for me
To meet and greet me
When I come home.
She’ll arch her back
And purr a bit,
Till I fill her dish.
I’d let her in;
But I worry
That she isn’t mine
But belongs somewhere
And is just stopping by
To share her time.
She’s growing tubby
In the middle,
She seems fit
As any fiddle…
I hope that
She’s just getting fat.
Is there a law
Gainst spaying
A neighbor’s cat?
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