Confession
I've been named Poosie, and I am spoiled
Thoroughly, thoroughly spoiled, and I like it.
And don't let anyone tell you different.
I lie upon the softest cushions,
Under the downiest covers
And love every moment.
I get the cream off the top of the milk every day
And special double thick, heavy on Sundays,
And I lap it up.
My owner is besotted.
She hugs and kisses me
And carries me around with her all day,
And talks to me and I enjoy it.
I'm spoiled rotten, and, friends,
That's the life.
Whatever I want, I cry for,
Crab, lobster, caviare, fish roes, sardines, fillet,
white meat of chicken,
You name it, she's got it,
I get it.
I don't want to work, or hunt.
If ten show-white mice were to saunter past
my nose,
I wouldn't lift a paw.
I'm greedy, graceless, shameless, lazy,
And luxury loving.
Everything that comes my way I take,
And yell for more.
I'm spoiled useless.
I admit it.
And I adore it.
Paul Gallico
(1896-1976)
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