Puggle Thump the naughty cat

I wrote this poem for my young granddaughter a couple of decades ago

A poem for a grandchild: The Naughty Cat

Puggle Thump, the naughty cat,
Went out the other day.
But when her mummy called her back,
She just ran away.

She climbed right up the nearest tree;
Her favourite place to play.
She just ignored her mummy,
And stayed up there all day.

But when she tried to climb back down,
She found she’d climbed too high.
She tried and tried, and tried again,
And then began to cry.

The man looked through his window,
And saw her in his tree.
So he went and got his ladder,
To try to set her free.

He found he couldn’t reach her;
His ladder was too short.
And as he tried to get back down,
He got his trousers caught.

They both stayed stuck till morning,
And the milkman came.
He took them both a drink of milk.
He thought it was a game.

Then Puggle Thump felt dizzy,
And fell down from the tree.
She dropped right on the milkman’s head,
And so he couldn’t see.

The milkman got a headache.
The cat had hurt his head.
So he got back in his milk van,
And went back home to bed.

The man then freed his trousers,
And was happy when he found,
That he didn’t even hurt himself,
when he slid back to the ground.

Puggle Thump was puzzled
As she looked down at her paws.
No wonder she’d got stuck up there,
She’d worn out all her claws.

She wrote a note to Santa,
To ask him for some more,
And then curled up and fell asleep
In her basket on the floor.

A reindeer soon sped past her,
Followed by a sleigh,
And Santa left a present,
Then flew along his way.

She woke on Christmas morning,
And looked down at her paws.
She’d got just what she’d asked for.
She was wearing Santa’s claws.