Off she goes again with that stupid red suitcase
Leaving us with Master, who ignores a pouty face
Mama gives us kisses, she pats us on the head,
Master crashes late, not always in the bed.
He truly loves us both, of that we’re completely sure
He walks us on the trail, is not impatient with the meadow’s lure.
But Mom, we wish you’d take us, we promise we’d be good,
When you’re gone we miss you, and worse: WE HAVE TO WAIT FOR FOOD.
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