To My Roommate’s Cat

You ate my herb and nearly broke my mug that has the semblance of a very precious spaceship and time machine. You run around for no reason and attack with claws and teeth unable to be subdued without a fight (midnight is apparently the time to “play”). You make just enough noise when you crunch and munch and lap to make it that annoying not-loud-enough background noise like when you can hear someone chewing next to you or your own heart beating. You sit in the kitchen sink and the bathroom sink and luckily I don’t think about it much but you do walk with those same paws in litter, near pee and feces (and I know about Toxoplasma gondii). You jump onto whatever furniture you like to play with sentimental décor or claw at wall decorations with claws scratching against metal like fingernails on chalkboards. You are allowed to do this because you apparently cannot be trained just as you cannot learn to stay off my desk or leave the door alone when I shut you out four times in a row. You leave your wet chewed mice everywhere to be stepped upon and the only real consolation is that they weren’t once living (though I dislike that they’re rabbit furred). You sometimes redeem yourself laying partially off the bed like my dog at home but I know I can’t cuddle with you without fear of upsetting you and receiving a bite or a scratch. You had the potential to make me care more for cats but you’ve cemented my loyalty to the canine (the well-trained canine).

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This work by Sarah Holmes is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

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