La Gata

(It is a poem~The rhythm is odd, but it rhymes.)
At 6 in the morn, the cat meows at the door
And once I have opened it, she waltzes onto the floor
She then leaps onto my bed
And sniffs where I rest my head
And voices her opinion with a purr
Knowing I left a warm spot for her
And then she curls up to rest for the day
For coming tonight, La Gata shall play