Your name is Popeye.

Your fluffy and small

and if left underfoot,  can be kicked like a ball.

Our story began back when i was eleven

and you were twelve weeks old.

I brought you home in a blanket because you were scared and cold.

From there we grew to love each other.

Popeye i give you credit

for dealing with my crazy.

Throughout the years you’ve been my first dance partner,

You’ve been my throwing toy,

You’ve been my comfort.

Don’t get me wrong, we both know you know I’m crazy.

I die of laughter every time

you give me the crazy eye.

But in the end you’ve always been there,

and that’s good enough for me.