Don't You Like My Cat by Unknown Author poem

I like my cat,

I like him well,

As all the house may see

I like him for himself, and not

Because the cat likes me.

He counts his only work in life,

To flourish and be fat;

And this he does with all his might;—

Of course, I like my cat.

His eyes shine out beneath his brows,

As eyes have rarely shone;

His beauty is the grandest thing

That ever cat put on.

He wears a paw of wondrous bulk,

With secret claws to match,

And puts a charm in all its play,

The pat, the box, the scratch.

I have not heard how cats are made

Within their furry veil,

But rather fancy Tippo's thoughts

Lie chiefly in his tail.

For while in every other part

His portly person sleeps,

That bushy tail, with steady wave,

A ceaseless vigil keeps.