Bent Words

Bent Words

December 05, 2017

Sounds Like a Pumpkin

My little (whispered) pretty kitty...

You know, for a time, it was just her and me. All by ourselves in that place on North Street.

She fit into the palm of my hand.

She was so small and so new I had to put her in a box so I wouldn't accidentally step on her.

She cried all night long the first night. Until I put a little teddy bear in there for her to snuggle with. Then she purred herself to sleep.

That's how I will remember her now. Soft and small and sweet and purring.

Well, and sneezing.

She never did not have a sinus issue. She snotted up pretty much everything. Each window, each wall and even the floor. She loved it when you cupped her head in your hands and gently removed the boogers from the corner of her eyes.

When she was all wheel drive, she would hang by her claws off his feet sticking out of the bed. She didn't really like men I guess. Some were allergic and some didn't care. Some cuddled up with her as though she were a little puppy dog. Snuggling with her more than me.

She broke a hole through the screen in my kitchen window once but didn't jump. She just stood there, pawing at the bugs flitting through. Purring and sneezing.

I had a child gate put up on my bedroom door so she wouldn't spew hair all over my clothes. It never failed, though, on my loneliest nights, that the gate came down and she crept in, securing a spot by my head on the pillow. Purring and sneezing.

I saved her from the burning building on North Street. More than a decade our home.

The fur gone.

The sneezes disappeared.

The security we once felt; POOF. Up in smoke.

For both of us. We both went through it. We both were scared. We both were cold. We both left a piece of ourselves there in that place on North Street.

I'm so sorry I let you go. Because it wasn't today. It was long ago.

And I hate me for that.

But I do love you, little one. Always have and always will. My little (whispered) pretty kitty.

Written at 2:58 p.m.