He walks like a prince, stately and sure
He goes to the bedroom through the bathroom door
His head is round and square
His eyes cool, steady and more
He flicks his ears
He undulates his tail
He reaches out a paw and extends a nail
Is he smart?
He’s not sure
One thing is certain---he wants more
More what you ask?
More of a task
Not just switching his tail, sharpening his claws and cleaning his whiskers
Not just basking in the sun on a warm Spring day, eating his chow and sounding off a “meow”
Not just playing with yarn, skidding across the floor---he wants more
Maybe he could be like Smokey the Bear or the black and white spotted Dalmatian
Maybe he could be like a seal with a ball, bouncing it around for one and all
Maybe like Willy or Lassie or the Purina Chow cat---or maybe he could just lay back
Be who he is and be satisfied with that
He’s petted, he’s fed, his litter box is cleaned
But what does any of it really mean?
If he jumped on the stove to eat some fish
Would there still be food in his dish?
Would his human companions continue to croon?
Would they brush him and rub him and make him the moon?
Would they carry him across their shoulders, keeping them bare to make sure he always had a comfortable place there?
Or would they swat him, kick him or hit him with a shoe
All because he never learned to say “Moo”?
Would they play dodge with him being the ball?
If the dog scratched the baby, would he take the fall because he has the longest, sharpest of claws?
Here comes John
Walking through the door
Keys in hand, bags on the floor
Does he want more?
John greets him
Kneeling on the floor
Kisses his face, strokes his fur
He wants more