Bossy Tom

It is a sign of great munificence That I am spared One chicken leg From Purry's modest feast. I do not beg. I get the sense That I am specially favoured In his retinue of slaves. Since he behaves So generously to me. Now if I am in luck I even get a slice of duck Though this rare As that particular bird Is top of Purry's menu. Mine too! I consider, As I place the tiny sliver Upon my Chinese pancake Spread with Hoisin sauce, Checking its position minutely With my microscope. The problem is my cat Is getting fat. What's that? Put him on a diet? But dietary control Is not upon his schedules, I'm afraid. And, as for exercise, a languid stroll Around the pond and back Towards his larder Or his choice of beds Is Purry's plan. As you can See, he's retired Early from the cares of life, And I'm required Just to open doors, And hunt in stores Like some old-fashioned wife!