 
Things Cats Must Remember
Screaming at the can of food
will not make it open itself.
I should not assume the patio door
is open when I race outside to chase leaves.
If I play "dead cat on the stairs"
while people are trying to bring
in groceries or laundry,
one of these days it will really
come true.
If I put a live mouse in my food bowl,
I should not expect it to stay there
until I get hungry.
The guinea pig likes to sleep once in a while.
I will not watch him constantly.
If I bite the cactus, it will bite back.
I will not stand on the bathroom counter,
stare down the hall, and growl at nothing
right after my human has finished
watching "The X-Files."
My human is capable of cooking bacon
and eggs without my help.
Television and computer screens
do not exist to backlight my lovely tail.
No matter how dangly and attractive they are,
my human's earrings are not cat toys.
The canned cat food is already dead.
I do not need to kill it by swatting
bits of it all over the floor.
I am a carnivore.
Potted plants are not meat.
I will never be able to walk on the
ceiling, and staring up the wall and
screaming at it will not bring it any
closer.
It is not a good idea to try to lap
up the powdered creamer before
it all dissolves in the boiling coffee.
If my human wants to share her
sandwich with me,
she will give me a piece.
She will notice if I start
eating it from the other end.
The goldfish likes living in water
and must be allowed to remain in its bowl.
I cannot leap through closed windows
to catch birds outside.
The large dog in the back yard has
lived
there for six years. I will not
freak out every time I see it.
If I must give a present to my
human's overnight guests,
my toy mouse
is much more
socially acceptable
than a live
cockroach,
even if it isn't as tasty.
As talented as I may be with
kitty litter,
my human will not
be impressed with my attempts
to build sand castles in the litter box.
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