Cassie will make a racket.
She'll make you want to pack it.
She will never stop.
This will make sleeping a flop.
Watch that ball go round and round.
More annoying than a yappy hound.
Well she may stop to stretch out.
But with all the noise you may pout.
Then we will get out this guy,
And make him umm die?
Can a dead thing die?
Redundancy you will spy.
This will make your brain hurt.
At least no blood will spurt.
Might be off with his head.
But what does he care? He's dead.
I'll germ up the table too.
Sit there right in your view.
Acting all serene and such.
Maybe even scratch if you touch.
See my big eyes watching you?
Whatever will you do?
Have to clean the table every day.
Poor poor you at your bay.
And then comes the real mess.
This is so fun I have to confess.
The cat will kill the TP.
It gives me so much glee.
Cassie will just sit and stare.
She thinks I'm nuts as I tear.
But when I am through,
You can bet a big mess will come due.
And we'd be all nice and calm,
If you moved us to a place with a palm.
But oh no, we have snow.
Can you see we shake our heads no?
The sun needs to shine bright,
Giving us sun puddles at our site.
The white stuff falling blocks that.
Snow just makes the cat even more of a dingbat.
Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.