by Denise Stanley
Our Cashmere tucks us in at night
And when we are asleep,
She prowls the house to set things right,
Then starts to earn her keep.
She checks the floor for bugs and mice,
Dispatching them with ease.
Our Cashmere is an indoor cat,
No pesky ticks or fleas.
She has a bite to eat and then
A drink to quench her thirst.
The couch is calling her to sleep,
She runs there with a burst.
She licks and grooms her pretty fur,
And does yoga for fun.
At last she sighs and hunkers down,
Her night’s job has been done.