Seduction Interruptus

She throws herself at the feet of the unimpressed— rolling, rubbing and yowling, an opera of yearning for the neutered elite. They blink, stretch, then saunter off for another nap on the sun-pooled sill, leaving her to flirt with the legs of chairs. Bewildered by the bopped nose, the rebuffed overtures— arching and warbling, tail high with invitation— she meets only indifference or disdain. Again she circles, unsure if maybe she’s doing it wrong. Mid-kitchen now, she flops down wailing betrayal in the key of estrus, as if to say: Was it something I purred?