A Cats tale

It feels like it’s free.
When it’s sitting in dust.
Stretching it’s paws.
The smell.
But trotting over like its nothing.
Eating, looking bored.
Containing it’s excitement.
Confusing it’s meat unit.
Purring a little.
Just enough affection.
And back under the shelf.
Into dust.
Cuddles come later.
Now, freedom.

This is still new.
But it’s good.