Cato

Cato


Cato, shorthaired tabby
striped to mimic jungle cousins.
Named for Clouseau's houseboy,
Pink Panther co-star.
Leaps when least expected
targets chest, back, shoulders.
Claws dig deep; hold fast.

Nagging alarm clock rivals
aggravation of whining cat
wanting food, water, attention.
Pesky, vexatious, "Now! Now! Now!"
bickers nonstop til all wants are met.
Finicky eater,
preference frequently fluctuates.

Pestering for two decades,
best before date
long since passed.
Grumpy, cantankerous, obstinate,
typical of aging males.
Always under foot,
notably, as I walk down stairs.

~~~

There is something reassuring
upon arriving home
after a long day at work,
after enduring crowded, jerky buses,
to open my door,
to hear the patter of little cat feet,
to be welcomed with his familiar, "Now!"

There is something irresistible
about a feline lying lazily in the sunlight.
I nuzzle my nose in his soft, fluffy fur,
I inhale his warm, friendly scent --
I feel his gentle purr.
His yellow slit eyes squint with contentment.
My face is blessed with gentle licks.

There is something revealing
in the act of contemplating
my feline friend of twenty years
who circles and settles comfortably in my lap.
I see my own frailty.
I recognize my grumpy, cantankerous moods.
We grow old, we wonder and we wait.