"Cat"

 

My dad is convinced that he speaks, “cat.”

He says that he understands what the cats want

And that the cats tell him what they need.

In all actuality, the cats simply want food and

Know that he’ll give it to them.

As a result, he hasn’t trained them,

Rather they have trained him,

And they keep him up at all hours of the night,

Demanding to go in or go out,

Begging for dry food or turkey.

 

I tell him to ignore their demands,

But he swears that they will just swat at him and get mad.

He said that Annie Mae got mad on Sunday morning,

Hit the chair,

And then stomped off for hour.

She may have,

But she was better by Sunday afternoon,

When she told me

(Yes, I speak, “cat,” too)

That she wanted to take a nap.

I obliged,

And she did what she always does

When she’s being affectionate:

Hopped onto her spot,

Made biscuits,

Turned around,

And laid down right next to my leg.

 

Annie Mae is not an overly affectionate cat.

But when she wants pets,

She lets us know.

And when she wants to nap,

She curls up beside me,

Always touching some part of my body,

But never laying on me outright,

Because that would be too much love.

 

In so many ways, people are like cats.

We tend to be the center of our own universe.

We communicate what we want both passively and aggressively and

We hope that someone listens.

We’re opinionated and prickly at times,

But even then,

We want someone with whom

We can be ourselves,

Rest, and

And feel safe, warm, and secure.

 

I hope that each of us can know and experience

Even a fraction of the love and

Life of comfort that

Annie Mae has come to live.

From thrown away teenage mother to

Queen of the House,

She is teaching me about

Adoption, redemption, and love…

All in her language of “cat.”