Feline Love Language

or It's the Thought That Counts

A mangled and stiff carcass of a small rodent

greeted me at my front door this morning,

a gift from the neighbors cat.

I’m not entirely sure

what the cat expected me to do with it.

Have it stuffed and mounted above my mantel?

Prepare it in a garlic-cream sauce

and serve it over a bed of angel-hair pasta?

Keep it in my pocket to remind me of the cat?

I’m not sure the cat cared

what I did with the gift,

but I’m pretty sure

the old tabby wanted me to have it.