Is growing fat.
She no longer skulks
From bush to bush,
Flower pot to flower pot,
Hiding from the garden world
While stalking prey.
One day last year
An awkward man
In worn jeans
Set bowls out,
Filled with kibble,
Water, treats.
He made no reach
To pet her fur,
Just talked soft,
Ambled slow.
Now she strolls each morn
To greet him,
To make sure he’s alive,
Runs where he goes, rubs
Against his shanks, purrs,
Curls up at his feet.
Of such things love is born.
©2019 John I. Blair, 4/7/2019
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