I sit here getting catly love

pouring over me with his velvet claws.

His rough tongue licking my hand

and patting me with his satiny paws.

He is my oldest and my first of three

His colors are of white and grey and I would discover

that his eyes of blue and his love of Love

would make me call him Valentino, like the silverscreen lover.

Alas I ended all his roaming (and loving) around.

I took him in and gave him a home.

He settled in quickly, has always given me love

and no longer in the cold does he have to roam.

Silly, I know, to write a poem about a cat.

Those of you who have one know what I mean.

It isn't that he is a cat at all

for he isnt like any cat that I have seen.

He thinks he is a dog.

He licks my hand and I laugh til I hold my side

as he growls under his breath,

muttering threats when he sees a bird outside.

He tries to lay upon our laps.

He carries a catnip filled sock all around.

He is silly and goofy at times.

He is a mouthy cat - I have since found.

When you fuss at him for something he had done...

he will answer back in that smart alecky way...

that three years olds like to do....

you know, the one that makes you pray

for strength to not get angry.

He is getting older, that is true .

But, he loves me and

you know what? I love him too.