ODE TO WEE

In our kitchen is a little tree
It is called Basil and smells of wee
Momma says she can smell that stuff
and that her sniffer has had enough

Round and round the house she goes
The smell of wee right up her nose
There I sit, head hung in shame
Whilst poor old Basil gets the blame

It soon dawns on Momma it is not Basil at all
She can smell wee in the lower hall
And in the kitten room too
And even in the down stairs loo

I have been around to mark my spot
my territory, my house, my lot
First I visit the bath for a pee
Just a little bathmat and me

Then I ventured into the kitten room
Where I placed my scent and my va va voom
I jumped aloft the mini fridge
and did a tinky, just a smidge 

Down it ran over it's convex door
Flowing right down until it hit the floor
Where Momma stood in it's stickiness
She sighs "Heaven help this mess"

I run and scarper as fast as can be
There is no proof, it wasn't me
Neither did I mark all the bedding
My need to pee is spreading and spreading

There is one place I am allowed to piddle
On a blue cloth in the bath I tiddle
It is a way to relieve frustration
At least I don't do it in the basin

I like to pee on our exercise wheel
I don't see the problem, it's not a big deal
As then, no one else can run
Coz it smells like me in the House of Fun

So to the House of Fun I go
Doors locked tight and I let it flow
Whilst in confinement over night
I do it then, just out of spite

So when I call for boys I am bad
It drives me potty and makes me mad
I hiss and spit and growl at mew
There is no more I can do

I have to wait my 'call' time out
Then I can play and love and yell and shout
There is nothing more for me to say
So I shall cross my legs and head for the tray

Queen Vee, 2018