The room in my house that,

my little black whiskered nose may not go.

From my green almond eyes to my fuzzy tail tip,

I may not go.

My pink inner ears know my little white buddy is in there.

I know, because he only comes out once in a while,

But why?

Says I.

I sit at the door and protest for show.

I know very well that she won’t let me go.

I hear him in there, my white whiskered feline friend.

I hear him playing with his catnip mouse.

My mischievous mauve nose twitches as the door opens a crack.

She slips out,

Milo get back.

I may not go.

I stretch my paws at the big gold ball --

twist it to open and let me in.

An indignant cry and paws thump back to the floor,

a lot more pronounced than my six pounds should allow.

Careening my neck and head-butting the door,

I stretch against the frame,

scratch that deep itch

I couldn’t get before.

Oh why,

in the room I may not go,

Must the lady keep me from my blue eyed companion?

Oh why, wails I, oh why?