“I’m begging you please…”
Your damn cat is so frustrating. Every day she does the same thing. Up at the crack of dawn, and in my face, crying for breakfast. I have no idea how you put up with this, but I know this for sure, it’s not going to last much longer.
But I feed her, albeit begrudgingly, because you used to do it.
And then it’s up and down the hallway for hours. In one room, then back out. She prowls restlessly until she tires herself out.
Your damn cat is so irritating. She’s starting to wear lines into the beautiful beige carpet you picked out. It takes all of my self-restraint not to pick her up and throw her out the window.
I don’t, because you would have shot me.
Then, while I’m trying to get work done, she thinks it’s time to sit in my lap. And even more so when it’s time for my lunch break. Every. Damn. Time – her fur collects in my bowl of soup as she stuffs her face next to mine. It’s always the worst when I eat that Italian wedding soup you liked so much. She must have really enjoyed the way it made your breath smell.
Your damn cat is so infuriating. It’s the point where I can no longer leave her alone. You know, I didn’t sign up for this… for the added responsibility. Why don’t you come back and take your cat?
She always finishes the day by shredding my heart. Every night, like clockwork, she goes into our closet and pulls out your favorite beach towel. You know, the one with the giant yellow M that you’ve had since your childhood. 7:45 p.m. on the dot. She rips it from the shelf, from under the shoe boxes and one time, she even found it in the hope chest at the foot of our bed.
She doesn’t play with it, she doesn’t claw at it, she doesn’t even move it once she’s pulled it out. All she does is roll herself up into it and lay there, until every night I find her. She looks up at me with those eyes, the ones that you saw at the shelter and said you just knew, she was the one. Those eyes lock onto mine, and we share that moment, and I remember why, through everything your damn cat has put me through, I still curl up with her at night.
We lay together, both of us clutching the towel that still smells like you. The towel we used at the beach when we last went 6 months ago. The very same towel I laid you on and tried, relentlessly, to breath life back into your limp body while waiting for the paramedics. Most nights, I swear I can hear her cry softly along with me, both of our tears mingling in the stiffening fabric of your towel.
Your damn cat is all I have left.
An Odd Trio – Daily Prompt
I had no idea where I was going to go with this one, but I really like it. I can feel the creativity really starting to flow!
Oh and PS – Happy Weekend!