Just a cat

I’m just a kitten to you, aren’t I?
I’ve been so proud of my claws and fangs
I forgot that I’m still something small
That looks fluffy and adorable to you,
But you could grab the scruff of my neck,
Pick me up and throw me across the room
If I ever sank those tiny claws too much.
I forgot you were just indulging me
While I purred what I thought were roars,
And batted so viciously at things
That you had made sure in advance
Could never strike back at me.
I forgot that for all my ‘hunting’ skill
I come back to the bowl you fill for me,
And rub against your legs for attention.
I just forgot. I’ve grown, indeed,
From the little ball of fur you first saw
To something that does have fangs.
But I think my eyes only grew now
Because I just realized what I am.
A Bengal – but the cat, not the tiger.
You were the latter. I looked at you
And let the similarities fool me,
Believed my spots to be the real deal
And thought myself already a leopard.
But that’s ok. I’m still growing.
You never know what I’ll end up becoming.
Or maybe I’ll become wiser instead,
And learn to purr and look adorable
Before I launch straight for the eyes
Of those who I fool into approaching.
I only mustn’t forget that I’m just a cat.

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