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Kit

Kit

Before I opened the carton,
   I’d chose the name Kit,
      Thinking of strong Wild West women.

Our little girl, Gigi, ran to my bedside, barking
   Excitedly, “A present?  Aaarrr-ooo!  For me, mamma?
       Is it at last the super bone you promised me?”
          She jumped up to nuzzle her muzzle
              Against my hand to hurry it all along, for
                   In this moment, she wanted to know the carton’s contents
                        “What is this now?  What!  WHAAAAT?”
                             
Then, “You ok?”  Gigi heard me ask ‘That Thing’ 
    I lifted from the carton.  I welcomed its new softness.
       Kit immediately opened up with a loud
               “Meow…yeee-ess,” to answer me, with
                   A turning of the  head and blinking eyes.
                        “This my home now?” Kit asked.
                             “Ohhhhhh-Yeee-ess,” I assured, imitating her easy speech.

Kit began to purr, raising a paw to brush a side of the nose…
   And Gigi rose, imposing herself to sniff here over Kit.  “Hey!”
        And then there, “Hmm?  Hmm,” all over Kit’s back.
            Scenting apparently nothing, so pushing backward
               Into a puzzled plop down.   “That Kit’s been by 
                  No others, on a having been no where I know of,” Gigi concluded.
                   
 Kit mewed too loudly once, blinking and blinking.
   Kit asked me, “Will that thing there beside you tear me apart?” 
         “Ahh, never worry,” I answer, petting  Kit behind the ears.
             “Nice, my nice new mamma,” Kit softly mewed, 
                  Opening her mouth so I saw a delicate, pink tongue.  

Ahead, straight alongside my legs, Gigi stretched out,
   Rolling onto her back.  “Beautiful belly,” I said, giving it a rub.
       “Don’t expect me to say, ‘Good night,’” little girl snorted 
             With some slight sarcasm…just as I could hear Kit
                  Raise her right leg to stretch her own turn over,
                      Showing her belly off to any of dreamland’s spying eyes,
                          She purred, “Nice mamma.  Nite.  Nnnn-ite,” 
                              On her way info sleep.

I leaned out over my knees to cup Gigi’s drowsing head in my hands.
  Words unnecessary ~ her tail rose and fell a twice tapping a wag on the bed.
       Her eyes half opened, yet directly they met mine
           To speak telepathically as we most often did — I thought to her,
               “I love you, my little girl.  Forever you are our little girl. Now
                   Rise on the wings of thet love
                       To your running free in dreams—“
                           Gigi lifted a sleepy, heavy paw up to tap 
                                For my attention,
                                    But sleep did not let her finish her thought.

Nor was I able to finish telling her aloud, so I went on in sent way to her,
  “Perhaps, 
Kit can be a companion sometimes for bedridden me 
       When you, Gigi, are out chasing squirrels up trees — so,
               Oh, Little Girl, think —“
                  (I pause to send her feelings of smiles)

“Gigi, think of this, our cat, Kit , who is run by an energy not her own;
    Who wears no scents; whose sighs are sent by wires; whose heart is only a dream;
        And whose words are my sent wishes for speech
             To sound out the fantastic life Kit could story here with us,  in so much more
                  Than only the noise of her clicking gears turning with her every move…

,So, on the morrow, little girl, please try, to speak to her with your eyes;
     Touch her with your memory 
         Of a sound similar to her winding gears,
              When you walked on  the fallen, crinkling autumn leaves;
                    And together, we can somehow lend our Kit a gaze of the stars
                          Overhead in the night,  whicb shine into the coming
                                Of every hoped-for, full  heart.
     

 
                              
Contest entry Personifucation sponsor  c, LaFrance
 themes  1  and 7
(c) sally young eslinger 6/29/22




   
      

Copyright © Sally Eslinger | Year Posted 2022

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