Gracie the Nag

Here's Gracie. She's actually our daughter's cat, but she has attached herself with a bond known only to cats to me. Here's a poem I wrote about her last year, but I'm reminded of it because she's been up to her old tricks lately.

Gracie the Nag
I have a cat who’s a bit of a nag,
and four o’clock is her hour.
She runs and prowls, jumps and scratches
and ignores each glare and glower.

She’s out and in, she’s down and up,
there’s no use being sour.
She meows and growls and purrs and chirps,
and four o’clock is her hour.

She just insists that I get up,
she ignores my every warning.
She walks up my legs, sits on my head,
did I mention it’s four in the morning?