Reflections of a fat cat

 He/she’s got in pretty good, being spoilt by his ‘owner’, lying around all day, lascivious prowl at night, or some sadistic executions of mice.   What does he/she think about on the sofa in the long afternoon?  What wisdom has s/he accumulated?   What advice to the world?  How has s/he got so fat? His/her method?    A symptom of success?  Or a sign of letting him/herself go? Is life passing him/her by?  Does it matter?   Does he/she long for love?  Lament demise of power?   Is there a rival?   Is he a type?   A  metaphor?   An allegory?

"Greed is good.  You hear?"