Poem - Latte Yawned

Latte Yawned When I woke up from my Neanderthal napmy little Latte bounded up after me, dutifully too!He has a strange habit, the strangest really.The little guy will follow me straight to the bathroom,hop his front legs onto mineand insist on being petted as I do my business.I have no clue why he thinks that’s the most appropriate time.I consider him more puppy than cat sometimes, though.He seems rather territorial of me, often curling in a balland sitting on my chest while I sleep,as if he had Squatter’s Rights.Still, he is majestic in appearance;I can see why the Egyptians loved cats,when petted he looks like one of thosejasper statues you see being pulled out of tombs.He’s got that wry smile,chest puffed out,and perfect posture.He looks proud,and my wife hates him.I don’t think he cares,so long as she doesn’t interfere with his eating.But it was strange, really;Latte hopped two paws onto me,looked right at meand let out a big,noisy yawn…“I’m tired too,”I told him.