Burton is always a little sad when I head to Mom’s for the weekend.

Since, I won’t be home until tonight I wrote a little poem to cheer him up.

The Ballad of Lord Burton Bearbottom

In a kingdom of quilts, where the soft blankets lie,
Lives a Lord with green eyes and a rather sharp eye.
With a coat black as midnight, magnificent and grand,
Lord Burton Bearbottom rules all of the land.

His whiskers are splendid, his tail is divine,
And he surveys his kingdom with a gaze most sublime.
The chairs and the cushions, the beds and the floor,
All his royal possessions, and he still demands more.

He supervises the quilting with critical grace,
Leaving tufts of black fur all over the place.
Each quilt must be tested, each fabric inspected,
Any attempt to move him is swiftly rejected.

His servants work tirelessly, both day and night
While His Lordship reclines in beams of sunlight.
He contributes no labour, pays nothing in rent,
Yet somehow believes he’s the house main event.

When evening falls softly and the day’s work is done,
He curls up beside me, his mischief all spun.
A rumble of purring, a slow, sleepy blink,
And suddenly he’s sweeter than anyone would think.

For beneath all that grandeur, that pomp and that fluff,
Is a heart full of love (though he’d deny such silly stuff).
A tyrant? Perhaps. A spoiled little brat?
But what else would you expect from so grand a cat?

Do you think he liked it?