I love that my cat decides when we eat cat food and drink water.
(My cat eats the cat food of course; I just have to put her first
in the sentence because she's cooler than me.)
She looks up at me, lazy green eyes suddenly expectant;
tail twitching and curling into an upright S,
she guides us between thrown pillows and an oversized
Doberman kennel,
door wide open, confusing my path,
but Pasha gracefully darts past, a prr of joy escaping her tiny cat lips.

When we reach the kitchen, all five seconds of our journey,
I reach for a glass, and my cat, she meows,
loudly and loudly-er until I acknowledge her cat bowl.
She insists I stand by it, and she looks at me once more,
waiting for my fingers to materialize on her fur,
petting her neck and her head.
Once she is satisfied, she buries her head and I close my eyes.
And we drink. We eat.