Ode to Oreo
O Oreo, thief of rustling packets,
how do you always find the treats?
You pull open drawers in the dead of night
like a burglar wrapped in black and white fur.
You leave ripped catnip bags across the floor
as if destruction is a kind of art.
The dog growls when you pass,
but you only flick your tail and carry on.
Every cat in the street knows you somehow.
You meet them beneath garden fences,
touch noses like you’ve shared lives before.
And maybe that is why I love you so fiercely.
Because before you, there were others.
Four names I still carry quietly.
Three boys lost to the road,
one girl stolen by poison.
You are chaos, Oreo,
all sharp claws and crooked habits,
yet you curl against me at night
like something determined to heal what it never broke.
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