My cat (a doggerel)

[Crepuscule]

I hate my cat, my cat hates me.
He purrs at me sarcastically.
He lies in wait behind shut doors
and ambushes with sharpened claws.
He sniffs and sneers at food from tins
then rakes in neighbours' rubbish bins
(he relishes banana skins).

Fish-breath cat, I cannot see
why doting pharaohs worshipped thee.

This is an utterly brilliant poem, and I say that not just as a slightly mad cat fancier The final couplet is witty and precise in a way that closes the poem perfectly, though why does it need to be its own verse? The rhyme and rhythm flow beautifully and this is a funny, charming work. Thank you for the read.

Thanks...

The last bit is by itself because I've switched from talking about the cat to addressing him. I don't know how effective this is, if at all.