Tap tap tap tap tap tap TAP!!!
I’m tapping on the top of a can..
The Signal!
To get their attention!
And I’ve got their attention.
Easy as pie.
This is the good stuff.
I know it. And they know it.
They both come running out from other rooms.
The older, heavyset one first, all calm and deliberate.
The other one scurrying out from her hiding place du jour. (under our bed?)
The Feral. The Foster Fail.
Still coming to the trough warily
After. Five. Fucking. Years.
I dramatically peel back the top of the can of pate flavored goodness and then tap the can faster still.
In a overly dramatic Overly Excited Parent Voice I say,
‘WHO WANTS WET??’
(I’ve been instructed many times in the past by my wife, the Cat Whisperer, that this degree of enthusiasm is necessary.)
And I have to admit, It really does do the trick.
I know I should really just give them each a quarter can, but such drama requires a certain amount of excess-
The whole damn can-Nothing less!
Even The Feral can’t resist the siren call of wet food.
She’ll even let me pet her as she begins devouring the sweet meat
(Although I can still sense her pulling away slightly-she just can’t help herself.)
I gave up a while back and just set up 2 ‘cat cams’ underneath the bed and living room couch so that we could get some small sense that we did in fact have two cats.
The days of having two cuddly lap cats
Fade further and further into dust.
I keep thinking that
Someday soon
She’ll pause for a moment
Search her memory banks
The Entirety of Her Whole Existence
And realize that I pose no threat
My wife says I’m just impatient.
And she may be right.
I’m hurrying things.
I must be.
‘It’s like not even having a pet,’ my kids joke.
We’re all just impatient.
We gave up hope, rolled our eyes and moved on.
Whatever. Who cares.
And yet.........
who am I kidding
I never truly give up.
On myself
Or you, sweetheart.
©2020 by David Leicht. All rights reserved.