Cubbie sat upon the table,
Though her masters both were able,
Of course they failed to grab the scoop.
Her dish half empty sat alone,
And neither meow, nor purr, nor moan,
Would bring her people in “the loop.”
With shattered will she slunk aside,
Into the kitchen – not to hide,
But hunker down and then regroup.
Though hungered pleas would likely fail,
Perhaps her food would taste fine stale,
And give her fuel to make a poop.
So on gravel, bum a-hover,
This time she’ll “forget” to cover,
And now they’ll need a DIFFERENT scoop!