My new cat

My new guy, Hobbes,
instead of playing with
the branches of my Christmas tree,
now wants to race and dart inside my fridge
right when I open up its door.
He hops inside and won’t come out,
until I, scolding, catch the little fellow
by his scruff
and drag him (gently, never rough)
out from his frosty lair.
And how he’ll mewl and huff a bit,
disliking he’s brought back to warmer air.
He likes to linger up aslant
the tupper-ware and sit
and purr  awhile.
This little impish ball of feline fur
desired to be, I must suppose,  
positioned where he sat
god knows,
a real cool cat.