Rita the Cheetah

They won’t let my cheetah in the Home Depot,

but they let in dogs, so I told’em so!

”Why do you hate cats, I’d like to know?

Is the manager here a feline-a-phobe?”

”No, no no!” They said. “He’s a helluva guy.

Who would never make cheetahs wait outside!

We don’t discriminate against those with a pride.

That sign on the door is meant as a guide.”

”Ah,” I said, and in we went,

my cheetah and I, for a shopping stint,

with the aisles to ourselves, but for one old gent

who called “Rita” pretty, then smiled and bent…

He reached out a hand, to scratch her head.

A mistake by him that hurt and bled.

”I’m gonna sue!” This geriatric said,

as he asked for my name, number, and creds.

”Why do you want them?” I asked the man.

”You can’t write them down with only one hand,

besides, you are addled if you think I can,

afford to settle up to your demands.

No, what you should do is to sue the store.

A jury would give you so much more

if you told them the sign was removed from the door

that kept out dogs and cheetahs and boars.”

The old man’s eyes went wide with delight.

Endless possibilities dangled in sight.

What good is a hand, when money is tight?

Better to lose it, and sue for your rights!

But before the man made it out of aisle two

Rita devoured the rest of him too.

Her aptitude losing to her attitude…

I think on our next trip, we’ll go to the zoo!