he’s got those shifty eyes,

John, we named him,

after the Baptist,

(the bitter irony),

he spends his days asleep,

or bathing himself,

for regeneration purposes perhaps,

he’s been licking his rear

for hours now,

but I know that he’s unclean,

I told him the Gospel,

and he winked at me,

then clawed my wiggling foot

under the comforter,

I waited too long to get him fixed,

so he now becomes a man,

and men are homes for horrors,

now he detests a gentle bath

be it in the Name of God

so I reckon my cat is the devil