An Ode to Claudia

When I was high on shrooms,
before it got bad,
you unfurled your fat belly
and it was so small
and so soft
that I wanted to cry.
Your tummy fur cracked open in sections
and I had endless permission to feel,
to touch,
to love your small smile and
little paws.

I drove two hours to get you this past
summer, a trip to Brockton that
let me know you were mine.
You greeted me like an old friend,
moving around these legs,
nuzzling against me
even though there was plenty of food
in that small room.
You bit me for trying to contain you,
meowed the whole way back,
and didn't forgive me from under the bed
for days after.

I threw you in my room today
and instead of protesting the way you
often do,
you lounged on the spare mattress
and fell asleep,
curled up in that perfect kitty ball.

Tonight, I came home
with a new bag of food
and you were so excited.

Each day with you is another new joy,
new bliss,
new comfort.