A White Walker at Christmas.

Our cat is a Siberian Forest Cat. At four years young, he is a character who provides no end of amusement for my wife and I. He is a vocal little guy when he’s waiting for breakfast.

In furry glory our white walker rests,

Patient he’s not when food is his quest.

White walkers roam, a fact that’s well known,

Under beds, atop book shelves and to places unknown.

Active for hours, when not sound asleep,

Hunting down mice in his comical creep.

Cute as a button, wise as a cat,

When he wants his kibble, there’s no denying that!

A chirper for sure, no cat meows for him,

This boy chirps his mind til his bowl’s at the brim.