the cat

Sometimes she snarls when I pet her

in a method she has deemed wrong;

other times she growls in anger

seeing violence in the movement of my foot

back toward her–after she chooses

to sit behind my heels;

then there are the times when,

as we (it is a team activity) brush her matted coat,

she can howl as though we were skinning her.

These are when I wonder why

I let her sit on my bed,

only to watch her raise her head

meow happily and

move to sit next to me and purr,

content only to be so close.

written 8-17-09

The Cat is actually my brother’s cat, but I seem to have been accepted as a reasonable staff person.

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