She is a proud creature
Strutting by my window
Hardly paying me a glance
But for a scornful one

Then — the little drops come down
First gently, a mist of droplets crowning her fur
The crown becomes too heavy
And she shivers, wet

Now my existance is noted
Oh, yes — I have become useful for her
Pressing her face up to my window, she implores me
Her moon-like eyes convey her desperate sorrow

I simply gaze back at her,
at this poor creature in the rain
She lets out a cry — a plaintive meow
Mraaaaaauuuuuuuuuuwwwwww

With her innocent face
It's as if she's asking
How can you not help poor sweet me?
I am the key to her comfort, I know

Sighing, I go back to my work
Only to be interrupted by another long wail
Scorning myself, I give in
And lean over to open the window

She tenses up and leaps
Bounding into the room
With the grace only of a cat
Landing delicately on the table

Picking through the clutter
she places her pretty feet carefully
She doesn't mind the mess
For she knows, purring happily, that she has won