My Cat Thinks I’m a God

A short poem about bad cat theology

My cat thinks I’m a god.

When I go into a room, the lights come on.

When I leave, they go out (usually).

When I wake, she grovels at my feet.

But I also scoop her poop,

Feed her, fill water, and clean up hairballs.

And while I’m no god—for her,

That is the closest I’ll come to being like One.