Ode to the Perfect Pet

Nothing fuming to pick up from the carpet.
No midnight rumble with a plastic bag.
No chewed shoes because you’re bored.
No hairy cushions left behind.
No forced walk in the cold with a wrapped dangling gift.
No clumping litter to change, ever.
No piling vet, psychologist and psychic bills
No seasonal mermaid calls at 3am.
No embarrassing knit sweater to buy.

Only quiet contemplation.
Only silent approval.
And a monthly dusting seance.

You are the perfect pet, my glass hippo.