micropoem for the day: boxer

My cat, Little Bear, lies out on the couch or the bed or the table or wherever she darn well pleases. I walk into the room and see her over there. She looks up at me with those eyes of suspicion. Like you should leave me alone. I am not in a particular mood for playing. I walk over and she’s on her hind legs. Suddenly she’s reaching out like some kind of boxer. Now I know what they mean kid gloves. Only she’s the one wearing the gloves. Ka-pow!

the cat a boxer
a right jab, then a left jab
I’m down for the count

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