Pye, a black and handsome cunning cat,
opened one eye, his humans had left the flat.
He flexed his paws, his victim to stalk,
to the kitchen he sauntered, a feline leisurely walk.
At the door he crouched down, low to the ground,
he knew this was where his prey could be found.
With a jump and a leap and a flip through the air
he landed so softly without mussing his hair.
One mighty swipe of his front left paw
opened, at once, the white fridge door.
Bitza, a black and beautiful dizzy dog,
worried, though hungry, she looked on agog.
“Oh Pye,” she begged, “will you shut the door please.”
He replied, “Don’t you fret, here have some smoked cheese.
You know they’ll just sigh and clear up the mess
then refill the fridge as it was, more or less.
It’s really all right, they don’t seem to mind.”
So they ate up the contents, though not Stilton rind.
Tired eyes and full tummies, they both fell asleep,
when their humans returned neither uttered a peep.
Humans scowled and cursed for ten minutes or so
then one shouted loudly, “They will both have to go.”
Kitten purrs and puppy eyes made everything right
and, again, by their whiskers, they were smiling that night.