Pinto

Black and white spotted, like panda in hat,

Pinto, he plotted – that dastardly cat!
Panda sat smirking on top of the hutch,

Curled up lips for how snazzy he looked.

Pinto sat patiently, pondering much,

His tail half-twitching, his head slightly crook’d,
Charting his long and laborious course:

Up the squat bag and the spines of the books;

He clawed and he pawed and shot-up head-first:

Up and over the ledge, actions turned looks.
Pinto’s demeanor said clearer than words:

“At long last we meet, you dastardly Bear!”

But Bear smiled still and looked blankly forwards,

“I’ve heard quite enough, you dumb, fat, stuffed Bear!”
With questioning brow and nonchalant bat,

Straight down past the books, tumbled the hat!
Just after that, cat and bear tumbled down,

Half fur and half felt, all the same pattern.

The cat sunk his teeth and paws in the down

Until it was clear: bear was a tatter.
A job nicely done, a Panda well slain,

Cat scampered to bed to dream of the spoils.

Even while epithets may have remained,

Pinto slept well in a perfect cat coil.
But to the daily distaste of the cat,

The sun rose on bookshelf, Panda, and hat!
“I’ll get you again,” said Pinto to that.

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