Loving Like a Cat

I like that you have to play games with cats.
You have to tease them by acting like your fingers are bugs hopping over the edge of your bed just to coerce them into cuddling you.
You have to have some patience first.
Strategy, even.
You have to know how to love a cat.
I love
Like a cat.
Strategically.
Often silently.
My reaction to love has been brutality.
Rub my stomach and I’ll bunny kick you.
I’ll cuddle on my own terms,
But beware,
When I’m angry…
Claws.
When I’m not in the mood, I run from it all.
Cats are peculiar.
Their moods are rapid,
But consistent.
They have certain behaviors.
Their body language shows signs of frustration or playfulness.
To know a cat is to pay attention.
To love a cat takes dedication.
It’s commitment.
For the rest of your lives together your blinds will not hang together.
They will be crumple and crooked,
Leaking the morning sun in all the right places to hit your eyes at all the wrong times.
Your cat’s head will be stuck while you’re shit out of luck trying to sleep at 4am.
4am, to them, is the perfect time to play.
And that’s when I hate loving cats.

All this time I thought she was a coyote.
A dog more so than a cat,
But I think I was wrong about that.

Her clock is set to rise when I’m saying goodnight.
My cat does that.
She naps all day, so cute.
Then when I want to join her she’s wide awake,
Ready to play the night away,
Getting her head stuck in blinds
And other forms of entertainment.

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