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Dedicated to my cat Rosie

Gingerly stepping over a sea of books

log jammed with pencils and pads

to my laptop computer

face to face eye to eye my cat stands

one foot on the dictionary

the other on on the keys

1q2222222 beeps across the screen

her dinosaur neck stretch intimates

she wants a space cleared to lay down

but the pile is so huge I am unwilling

I look around for her comforter and place

it and her on the chiffonier behind me

she circles around bobbing her head

calculating the air

I return to work trying to emote

moments later she returns

gingerly stepping over half

eaten apples, teabags dried in teacups

and mountains of loose poetry

she zen-glides crinkle-free toward me

and sits down on the lumpy pile

Silence stabs the air

her unflinching stare

at the chiffonier indicates displeasure

I re-arrange the comforter on the floor near

my chair she haunches over the tables edge

with an overseeing eye - disapproving

It‘s too low I want to be on the table

so I may inspire you I want to be your

m’m’muse she purs trying to con me

looking at the piles of clutter I’m still

unwilling to clear ~ forget it I say

draping the comforter over the chair

and putting her on it she flicks her tail

leaves the room scoffing me out the door

she has gone to eat

I manage to get this far into

the poem when she returns

gingerly stepping over computer cords

printer paper and saucer pausing

to sniff the muffin crumbs

she raises up on two paws glaring at me

from atop my Thesaurus

her tongue snailing bits of tuna

from her whiskers

I want to lay down she demands

and sits on the uneven clumps to wait

a wet forepaw swabs behind her ear

as I dutifully clear the debris and

replace it with her fleece lined comforter

After a tail flick of approval she

curls sowbug like into dreamland as I

gingerly step over indescribable

heaps piled on the floor

I return to work pouffing

cat hairs off my screen

Her tiny eye slits - now in my sight

flicker with kitty visions

antenna ears cocked

listening for wisdoms in the shadows

and in unspoken eloquence

as promised

passes them my way

*********************

Rosie’s story

Rosie Gold was a cat of high intellegence and many talents, a founding that moved in and made herself a home. She knew exactly where she belonged and how to win our hearts. A loving ginger stripe with six toes which gave her distinction that she found useful in bewitching her humans.

She was particularly fun to play nerf ball with, she could bat the ball down the hallway then chase after it, keeping her occupied for several minutes. She had a particularly odd habit of crouching behind the swinging door in the kitchen, when someone walked through it she would grab them by the ankle, as if attacking a fierce baby warthog in the wild, biting and kicking with her back feet, it often landed her across the room when her prey reacted in surprise.

She fancied herself a female warrior of sorts. Willful and cunning, which also made her entertaining. Her favorite game was unwinding the toilet paper, we finally got wise and put it up high out of her reach.

She made friends with our family of chickens, she liked to hang out in the eggshed keeping the hens company while they laid eggs. She could be found in one of the nests curled up keeping uninvited mice away. It was very simpatico. The chickens were mostly non plus and merely tolerated her. She and Harry Zeggs the rooster had scuffles once in a while. Harry wouldn’t put up with any shenanigans and Rosie had a few. He referred to her as The cat. One time a garter snake found it's way inside the coup - the cacophony of shrieks and squawks woke Rosie up from her nap curiously wanting to get to the bottom of it. Harry was much obliged when The cat bit the snakes head off saving the day, and was less hostile after that.

She was a helpful companion in the garden at least she thought so, she loved digging in the loose dirt and helping with the weeding, mostly by grabbing my hand intimating she wanted some attention. I wrote this poem about her selfless attention to my inspiration to write.

Rosie lived happily and healthy for 16 years, she died peacefully curled up in her comforter - no doubt moving on to a new life adventure. She sometimes comes to me in dreams wanting to be fed. I still miss her.