Louis

he looks like a Picasso, come to life in charcoal and white, pink skin showing through he was hard to woo but i wore him down with warm milk and an old down comforter i was sick with pneumonia but every day i would bundle up in layers and call to him in the garage "little one'' id call "click click" (the standard call of the wild) 'Little one"... and he would peek out from behind a box or trash can and he would smell the wounderous presents i brought the catnip mouse on a string and the steam rising in the frigid cold from the warm milk "little one" each day would come a little closer and rub on my shoe or nip at my hand until one evening he watched me go through the porch door and followed greeting the others with his belly dragging on the cold tile he is part of the fold now, we call him Louis and he drives the elders crazy he talks in a dove like coo and stretches his neck for you to scratch bella tolerates this behavior but secretly likes him very much our little Picasso much more precious our little work of art