Poems From The Porch
Meet The Family
Gatito usually spends her days inside.
She waits expectantly on the porch each morning for the door to open
and is an integral part of my day.
Gatito sleeps peacefully beside me on the futon while I companion people.
She is faithful in maintaining their confidentiality.
She joins me when I nap at midday,
sometimes nudging me to open my eyes.
Throughout the day, she talks to me when she wants my attention.
She even follows me to the bathroom,
jumps in the tub, and waits patiently for the water that I will let flow for her
from the faucet.
My oldest son calls her and Lucy the privileged cats because they enjoy the benefits of indoor living.
Today, Gatito wanted to join me outside
after she ate her breakfast.
I noticed her following me around
before I made my departure to my prayer chair.
When I popped back in to grab my coffee,
she slipped outside with me.
There were other members of the cat community
awaiting my arrival.
Stubbs wanted to be on my lap when I settled myself,
so I gave him my full attention.
I did not want to take for granted that he would be available tomorrow
or any other day.
Then it was Petey’s turn.
He is long, lean, black, and beautiful.
There must have been a panther in his lineage.
Now Fozzy sashays aside my chair.
She is the fluffy deva of the town.
She wants Petey’s place,
but realizes that there is just no room.
She takes the offer of a zafu
I place by my chair as a momentary consolation prize.
Pepper frequently plays hard-to-get.
She is conscious of her soft, Tabby allure and uses it to her advantage.
Frodo is the only one with bright green eyes.
His gentle nature makes him tentative about seeking attention.
He places himself next to me like a whisper,
but is not so bold as to jump up on my lap.
And then there is Sammy.
He is frequently on the prowl—
the outsider who wandered up one day
and found the place hospitable.
He tries to provoke Stubbs, the patriarch,
but Stubbs just looks at him as if he were a pesky fly.
There is something about Pepper that Sammy likes, even though she is not fertile.
His pursuit of her is relentless.
I would be remiss if I didn’t give a nod to Lucy.
Think ornery, moody, and sulking;
though perhaps if you saw the whole community congregated,
she would be the one about whom you would inquire.
She is “big-boned” and wears a tuxedo,
but there is nothing refined about her.
Lucy provokes me to get my attention,
so she is well-experienced with time-outs.
Ours in not a love/hate relationship, though.
It is all love.
Lucy and Gatito were abandoned pitifully at the end of our driveway
when they were not yet weened.
We nursed them with bottles and kitty-milk
until they could transition to solid food.
It was time-investment.
So now maybe you understand why they have the run of the house
and our hearts.
Still, it is difficult for me not to share the inside space
with the whole community.
I guess it is a matter of hygiene.
So I must go out to visit them,
and when I go in again,
it feels like a loss.
I look down to see Stubbs relaxing by my chair
and he gives me that loving kitty gaze
that evidences his affection.
He tries to climb up on my lap again,
but it is time for me to go.
Gatito is getting antsy.
She vocalizes to motivate me to get on with the day.
She will come with me inside, and I am grateful.
My heart is so full.
Love is everywhere.