The Ballad of Coffee, the Caffeinated Cat

In a house on a hill lives a plump little cat,

White as snow, with a tuxedo cravat.

He naps on a bench in a warm patch of sun,

Looking peaceful and calm, though that calm never won,

Because underneath all that fur, soft and tight,

One clap of two hands and he's gone out of sight.

A footstep too heavy, a door with a slam,

A cough or a sneeze or a dropped can of Spam,

Any sound with a snap sends poor Coffee askew,

Ears back, tail all puffed, both eyes locked onto you.

"This won't do," he decided one night, "I'll be brave.

I need something bold, something strong, something grave."

So he crept down the stairs while the house was asleep,

Past the shoes by the door, not a sound, not a peep,

And he found on the counter a pot, sitting deep,

Full of coffee, a black coffee, the kind meant to keep

Tired humans awake through their long, weary days.

He sniffed it. He blinked. He gave one last cat gaze.

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Now those eyes of his, round like two bubble tea pearls,

Gold and glossy and deep, with a shine and a swirl,

Look so sweet at first glance, soft and warm, full of charm,

Like they couldn't do any creature much harm.

But don't be mistaken, that stare's not for show,

It's the sharpest, most lethal sight this cat will bestow.

Because right as you're melting from how cute he seems,

He's already plotting his next caffeine schemes.

Those bubble tea eyes, so innocent and round,

Are locked on the mug like a predator's found

His one true weakness, his one true delight,

And nothing, not nothing, will stop him tonight.

Then he lapped at the mug with his small, careful tongue,

One sip, then a second, and suddenly he'd sprung.

His pupils grew wide like two saucers of night,

His whiskers stood tall, every one bolt upright,

And instead of retreating the way that he had,

He went bouncing off cupboards, wild-eyed and glad.

He tore through the kitchen at record cat speed,

A fluffy white blur running purely on need,

Knocking spoons off the counter, upending a chair,

Doing laps round the table, a blur in the air.

The humans woke up to the clatter and thud

And found him mid leap, landing soft with a thud.

Now every day, noon comes and Coffee appears,

Sitting neat on his bench with his round little ears,

Those bubble tea eyes fixed and glowing with need,

Looking dignified, royal, yet driven by greed.

It's decaf, of course, watered down, mild and thin,

Though he swears that he tastes the good stuff within.

So don't clap. Don't sneeze. Try to keep your voice low.

This cat runs on nerves and a steady coffee flow.

Underneath all that fluff, in his round little chest,

Beats the heart of a cat who could use a good rest,

But instead chose the jitters, the fuss, and the cup,

Our tubby friend Coffee, who won't slow his hop up.

This is inspired from my tubby cat named Coffee🐈‍⬛.

I didn't have more ideas on what to create but then this crazy cat of mine was rampaging on our house with my other cat, Caramel.

In the end, I decided to dedicated this poem from him with his quirkiness.😅

I might as well create another poem to my Caramel soon if I have time.