Our human is still here.
He’s rattling around the house.
We can’t even find the time
To go hunt for a mouse.

Our human is still here.
He lunges and he dances.
It’s ain’t easy being a cat
In these trying circumstances.

Our human is still here.
He’s mouthing off on social media.
Now he passes his time
Reading an encyclopaedia.

Our human is still here.
He’s become quite the dosser.
He tries to expand his mind
But he’s just a silly tosser.

Our human is still here.
He tries to cook a Sunday roast.
All this from the gourmet
Who can incinerate toast.

Our human is still here.
He’s putting on a little weight.
We’re not saying that he’s fat,
But we’ll need a wider gate.

Our human is still here.
He’s sewing his own mask.
And as for that haircut,
Well, it’s best not to ask…

Our human is still here.
He’s counting the stars above.
We think he might be starved of
That thing humans call love.

Our human is still here.
If this doesn’t end soon
We’ll simply have to drop him
Down in a six-foot cocoon.

Our human is still here.
He’s out digging the weeds,
And proclaiming to the world
About his tiniest of deeds.

Our human is still here.
He hasn’t caught any mice.
But he knows how many grains
Are in the packet of rice.

At last, the lockdown’s over!
And he is up over the moon.
Where the hell is our human?
It must be dinnertime soon!

(c) Pádraig Hanratty

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