A definite sparkle in her eyes,
Most close to Ninjin, the carrot cat.
Although a cat catch away,
Still Little Bird is unlikely, I say,
To suffer the anguish of becoming caught prey.
Even with Little Bird's four legs off their pads,
Her twisted body, in a forward leaning way,
As if to say, I can be had for just a reach
Of a swiping claw and brought to main fangs.
Ninjin, the carrot cat, though eyes dimmed down,
Muscles tense, measures ground
To leap and snatch
Tormentor in a final grasp,
Slowly bares his claws to grip the carpet fast.
Little Bird, at last, his chance to add to past success,
Leans even more over to her side.
But unbeknown to her foe
A hind paw hidden low, unseen, but bent below
The twisted body fur, has turned to hook the cloth,
All muscles trained to focus power in one leg,
To spring the turn and turn the tables, instead,
On Ninjin, strained to spring, glory in its head.
Ninjin, the carrot cat, sinews strained
Waits for the error that will detain
In claw-locked grip his greatest claim
And then to regain his old domain
From Little Bird's audacious gains.
The tension grows, the search for signs,
Both locked in spring mode, eyes aligned,
Milliseconds played, Ninjin's claws splayed,
A grasping swipe, a sweeping wipe,
And Ninjin's body falls,
With Little Bird's loud meow, meow, meowing
Heard down the hall.
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