My cat he likes to eat,
There is no appetite he cannot meet,
Till the day he ate something bad;
If he stops eating he might be mad..
to refuse the glorious way of survival,
The only way known since time medieval..

He never worry like we do,
About how much he doesn’t poo..
How he blows up his tummy,
Which never ever gets grumbly.
He takes great care of his diet,
And he is not in any way quiet.

He wears a stretchable tabby fur,
That makes him look very dear,
For all who meets him will find that,
Many exclamations we witness..
Of Wa’s awesome fatness..

He doesn’t mind the comments,
His ego bears no chip nor dents,
As there is never much malice..
In the opinions of his malpractice..
He sits and just give you a grin,
Till you indulge him a canned tin.

I checked my bestfriend’s cat,
Who wasn’t quite as fat,
But eats just as much and more,
Her meals are feasts galore,
Yet she remains a lady feline,
And manages well her dainty waistline.

Wa found out about this,
And was not to give it a miss.
Proclaimed that if he ate more,
His bowels might over pore..
That he might regain composure,
To a much leaner measure.

The other day he ate someting bad,
For two days he looked very sad.
I gave him the best there was to offer,
But he didn’t flicker a whisker.
Before he finally smiled again,
Sure enough, everyday felt like rain!

Now he looks very happy,
Mom says he eats like a refugee.
Back to normal are his habits,
Eating for a hundred rabbits,
Now I am intrigue to know,
Where did all that fat go?

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