Oh, Cookie Dough, my kitten fair and sweet—
I love you but you’re driving me bezerk
By yerping in a puddle ‘neath my feet
And mewling until dawn on days I work.
It’s cute you want to cuddle me and purr,
But why’s it always when I need to write?
My keyboard doubles for a coat of fur,
But if I try to move you, there’s a fight.
You hear the cracking open of a can
And smell fresh tuna from a mile away,
And yet you feign confusion at my plan
To lure you from your nap for catnip play.
Yet, after all this nonsense, I still know
I’d never trade you in or let you go.