Friday Evening

Friday evening, end of work’s week
T–‘s frustrated, she won’t even speak

The wrong formula, the meager diet
The dreams of rats, the endless fight

Caturday’s far away, Friday seems all
She’s searching hopelessly for her lost fur ball

She has to hunt dinner and sleep on the shelf
And lick her paws clean then go meet the elf

Who promised her dates with fat handsome cats
With nice cozy boxes and plenty of rats

T–‘s frustrated, she won’t even speak
She’s been waiting for Caturday, through the long boring week

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