A Cat Called Satan by Maureen Wilkinson

A Cat Called Satan

by Maureen Wilkinson


Satan was evil
and just like the weevil,
he burrowed right into my head.
He fought every moggy,
even a doggy,
he battled until it had fled.
His ears they were tatty,
his coat pretty ratty,
his breath, too foul to describe.
When he sat on my knee,
sometimes smelling of pee,
there was something I couldn’t decide,
What was I at, even liking this cat,
who was nasty and evil and bad?
Then one day I knew,
As I cleared up his spew,
I was all that the poor old cat had.