Introduction to Phoebos, the Cinnamon Cat

Phoebos, the Cinnamon Cat 

Phoebos, the Cat, named after Apollos’ light 
Ha! He’s more like an impish spright. 
A fluffy cinnamon ball with sass to spare, 
A rascal in fur, with a devilish glare. 

 Like a baby he’s heard wailing, "Let me out!" 
You'd think the world’s ending, without a doubt. 
Through the door he escapes, with a sly little grin, 
The magpies squawk, "Beware, he's out, it's him!" 

They warn the woods of his prowling gait, 
For Phoebos the Terrible's out of the gate. 
Will he bring back a pigeon, or maybe a rat? 
Whatever it is, he's smug about that. 

He creeps through the trees, a hunter supreme, t
houghts of food fuels his life-dream. 
But when his human offers him a tasty bite, 
Phoebos just smirks; who knows, he may fight. 

A swipe with the paw or a claw-filled attack, 
The human never knows if Phoebos will snack or smack! 
He purrs with delight, then strikes with glee, 
Keeping the human on edge with his feline decree. 

Then it's back to his cave, where darkness prevails, 
Like a king in his lair, he wraps up his tails. 
But by nightfall, he’s found beside mummy in bed, 
Snuggled up close, no more mischief to spread. 

From Mansfield, they say, nothing good comes, 
And Phoebos, he is the naughtiest of chums. 
He lounges like royalty, demands treats on cue, 
With cinnamon fur and a mischievous mew. 

Phoebos the fluffy, Phoebos the sly, 
With cinnamon fur and a devilish eye. 
He’s trouble in paws, but we never complain, 
although life with Phoebos drives us insane!

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