Our orange-cream calico is quite polite.
She comes to visit very patiently,
does not meow or paw me with a slight
concupiscence for petting. Silently,
she seems to know the power and the pull
of meekness – how its beauty draws me in.
Her peace commands attention. Now a full
but tempered purring brings my face a grin
as I contrast her personality
with Blacky's – how he nibbles at my feet,
not sparing my own flesh his tooth or claw.
I love them both, what's better, they love me.
And if they really had nine lives – how sweet;
our home would be a feline Taj Mahal.