The little tiger climbs his cage,
Mewling loud in tiny rage.
His itty paws are clawed and sharp,
And mini eyes glow bright and harsh.
Little tiger wants his dish,
Wants blood and scales and salty fish.
His appetite is cut and ripe,
Jaws are poised to tear and bite.
What little tiger doesn’t know,
He’s itsy though his temper grows.
Ferocious beast is still in fact,
Nothing but an orange-striped cat.