The day that I met Smokey, I was lying in the bed.
As I awoke, I found him, head so near my head!
He stared at me in wonder,
Or was it calculating thought?
He then sat upon the book I read.
I couldn’t turn the page.
He just sat and stared at me
And never turned his head.
He got up. Stretched lazily.
He approached, with grace and stealth,
Darcy, the dog, who was taking a nap.
He slowly reached out and smacked her,
Right across her head.
The dog retaliated.
She snatched up Smokey’s bed.
She began running toward the door with it,
As fast as her dachshund legs would go!
But Smokey just watched her.
He haughtily stood his ground.
He turned around with such disdain,
Ignoring the lot of us!
I quickly discovered that Smokey,
With his fur of grey and his big green eyes,
Was to the Manor Born.
The rest of us inconsequential things…