Walking slowly with perfect markings,
He silently creeps up the cracked walk.
You have no idea you are his "prey",
Pounce and claws makes you quite his toy.

I speak of my old friend, Mr. Boots,
He looked more like a tux than cat.
Boots was the cats' meow and more,
Cool was his life, charm was game.

So clever was he,
Smart was etched in his brain.
I had never met a cat like he,
He broke the kitty mold at blessed birth.

Alas, Mr. Boots died in a farm trap,
We cried for days for him to come.
Dad found him and buried him out back,
We knew our precious cat had gone away.