Scratching at the kitchen door,
The sound of little feet.
The only time he scratches there,
Is when it's time to eat.
When the door is opened,
It seems that he must decide.
Will he come inside to eat,
Or wait for it outside?
When he realizes that,
The food's not coming out.
He looks at me as though,
I don't know what it's all about.
Then he comes into the house,
And goes right to his dish.
Then looks at me as though,
I should fulfill his every wish.
Then I take his special dish,
And get a can of food.
He looks at me as if I'm late,
And I am being rude.
I'll give him something new and different,
That will make his day.
But when I put his dish back down,
He sniffs and walks away.
The new food that I gave him,
Was supposed to be a treat.
I guess what my cat's telling me,
He'd rather lick his feet.
-- Unknown