Eleven years ago he woke up a tripod, an amputee, an AmpuTater.
Shhhh. Don’t tell. He hasn’t missed a beat.
Able to conquer three-level cat towers in several bounds,
Still counter surfs at every chance.
He’s best at singing the song of his people, preferably at 4:30 am.
Tater, cat-dog had yet to fail at winning over every “I’m not a cat person” he’s met.
Meet Tater the Terrific. Tater the Best, Tater Tyrant of my Heart.
Happy Sweet Sixteen, Taterbug.