My feline master, Zorro, is at the door;
The living tux, white-fronted and black-masked
Slinks in to claim my lap, his throne. Having just
Fed himself, the cat yowls and demands a task
From me. I had been working—but no more.

One hand's fingers peck at the disarranged
Glyphs of black and white upon the keyboard;
The other strokes his black crown and white jaw,
And the mouse again to add more to the hoard
Of text that slowly scrolls down the white page.

Zorro, in command, sees all; the furry sphinx
Adjusts his paws as I move his seat (my knees),
And tracks the pad-bound motion of my mouse.
Sometimes he lays a white paw on the keys;
Then jumbled text appears -- a real screen jinx.

The mouse and I, we know who holds the power;
My feline Lord meows imperiously
Demanding my attention, all at once.
What else have I to do but serve? So he
Leaps down with tailed pride from his catnap hour.

Impatient and commanding, Zorro stands
Begrudging time I spend to clear the screen.
I open the door; the king of cats takes leave
While my obedient mouse sits, quite serene.
The jungle tale, not tech, surely rules my hands.