When Darryl first began creating the universe,
the apartment was a chaotic, shapeless mass;
it did not even have a scratching post.
Yet somehow Darryl did his nails.
That was the first day, and Darryl said it was good.
Then Darryl separated the furniture from the U-Haul,
meowed at the vapor rising from laboring nostrils,
purred at the plaster sky and immersed himself in deep-fiber ocean.
All this occurred on the second day.
On the third day Darryl named the apartment, “HIS”,
and said, “Let this place burst forth with grass and Whiskas.”
Then Darryl fixed it so light would fill the universe
for standard feline operations on demand,
and yet at the same time had enough savvy
to insure that night was always nearby, like beneath the bed.
This all happened on the fourth day.
And Darryl said, “Let there be wrens and robins outside
with an occasional chipmunk on the porch railing
for my incessant curiosity, then let me bask in a sunbeam."
"I am Darryl," and that was day five.
And so Darryl allowed a human, on day six,
to live within and have dominion over the litter-box.
Then Darryl looked it all over, and it was excellent.
Darryl rested on day seven, and that was heaven.