Susie and Lester

If you have a puzzle to put together, best to own a cat to paw and ponder the jigsaw path, fur flying, schnozes sneezing, eyes squinting, fingers tweezing. Separation anxiety, as you figure out which pile, to adopt, for each piece, wizened to the fact, they all look the same. “Aha,” as two go together, “of course, I should have seen that.” The cat's purring; is that a smile - she knew. Her partner in crime, its criminal to be so cocky; he walks through the leaves; it’s like a haystack to me. I have to cover the coveted lot, at bedtime, or I might lose “the last piece” to a persnickety furball of malice. Susie and Lester could have the final laugh, as I search high and low, even in their jaws, for the top of the tree. Years later, missing the menacing duo, I find the piece of gold; its only value in the memory of the stalking, meowing and marvelous disappearance of kit and kat. If I had only kept the entirety and hadn’t snapped. Just kidding - I glued it to the wall next to the “waste of time eternity” spent putting this monstrosity together, its test (of my patience and love). And I laughed and laughed, and called, dialed each member of the cause, the table of mystery, solved. Tears streaming down each face. Like pieces of the puzzle, misplaced, each son and daughter - as if Susie and Lester hid them too. Those two, under Autumn leaves, turn over in their graves, as if dreaming of their time with this family; pawing the dirt, nestled next to each other, meowing in laughter.