Cat Memories

You know how a cat is? The way it opens its eyes, not seeing anything but looking into spry muscle and bone. How it blinks slowly---so slow, eyelids washing the mind of anything but satisfaction. It arches its back & stretches its legs out - a rubber band of pleasure. I used to awake like that, but no more. This morning, my head is a pumpkin stuffed with kapok, a swollen gourd on a creaking cactus. The sleek, lissome cat, who owes me at least a consolatory lick, for all I have done for it, & me with my bad back, has sloped off to catch a sparrow for its breakfast shunning my expensive canned kitty food.