This is a little prose about me and my better half - my cat, Mitttens. I miss her terribly.
See how one creature becomes like it's master. Guess which one of us is the master...
The Cats Meow
She will go anywhere
unafraid
or only a little
Small steps;
quietly moving along the edges of the house
along the edge of the circumstance in which she happens to find herself
Everyone has marveled at her independence
How long will she stay out? you asked me one night.
Until morning I say, not quite understanding the surprise in your eyes.
She has a strong voice
loud
or at least it seems
Chatty,
long and harmoniously constant
Filled with questions and complaints without apology
It can be exhausting I admit
Once, a neighbor left a nasty note of disdain on our glass door.
She searches for shelter all day it said How can you?
She was the one they did not want;
her family urging me to take her
There was no hint of the trouble ahead
The month without sleep,
the torn bedcover,
the killed prey on the doorstep,
French lessons and
The Miracle Recovery from a hit and run;
all of it a cup of tea, really.
She has survived
long
or at least not given up
on me;
a product of store bought milk
all the character of a sweet nothing, confused writer
We are tempting, at least
In the wee hours of a Saturday morning she hogs the bed
Mon cheri I start. You are infuriating Jetiame
See how one creature becomes like it's master. Guess which one of us is the master...
The Cats Meow
She will go anywhere
unafraid
or only a little
Small steps;
quietly moving along the edges of the house
along the edge of the circumstance in which she happens to find herself
Everyone has marveled at her independence
How long will she stay out? you asked me one night.
Until morning I say, not quite understanding the surprise in your eyes.
She has a strong voice
loud
or at least it seems
Chatty,
long and harmoniously constant
Filled with questions and complaints without apology
It can be exhausting I admit
Once, a neighbor left a nasty note of disdain on our glass door.
She searches for shelter all day it said How can you?
She was the one they did not want;
her family urging me to take her
There was no hint of the trouble ahead
The month without sleep,
the torn bedcover,
the killed prey on the doorstep,
French lessons and
The Miracle Recovery from a hit and run;
all of it a cup of tea, really.
She has survived
long
or at least not given up
on me;
a product of store bought milk
all the character of a sweet nothing, confused writer
We are tempting, at least
In the wee hours of a Saturday morning she hogs the bed
Mon cheri I start. You are infuriating Jetiame