Where Did It Go At My Show!

Ever lose something at your show that you look for high and low? But you know you put it down there. Then the damn human gives you an evil glare. We always get the blame for such a claim.

Where is the watch?
I never drank scotch.
It was right there,
As always at my lair.

Not down the crack.
Stolen by a boogeyman pack?
Not under the bed,
Watch as he scratches his head.

Pat can't find it.
We are blamed at our pit.
But it wasn't me.
I bet it was Cassie.

But he keeps staring at me,
Like I hid it up a tree.
I just eat the toilet paper,
Never had a watch caper.

Under this and under that.
Not there at our mat.
In a crack and in a drawer.
Nope, this is quite a chore.

At least Pat gets exercise.
The cat is oh so wise.
I mean Cassie is wise.
I was too busy chasing flies.

And then he gives up,
Like a silly pup.
Gets a new one,
And hides it which is no fun.

Then one faithful day,
We buried things deep at our bay.
So he had to dig to get it,
In other words it was umm spit.

Whalla! There it was below.
It could still glow.
Cassie buried it in the box.
What a sly fox.

What? It was not me.
I don't bury things with glee.
Pat just should have looked a little deeper.
The litter box is like the watch grim reaper.

Maybe the cat just wanted to say it died. I buried it with pride. I mean Cassie did it, it was not me that created the litter box pit. I guess Pat will just have to stay on his toes so he suffers no more such woes. At least we did not bury it in grass. I am such a thoughtful little rhyming ass.

Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.