It’s silly that I’m missing you,
isn’t it?
You were just a cat – 
and an ornery one at that. 
You wouldn’t let me give you hugs
and shied away from any love.
But still,
I’m looking around every door
expecting to find your coat of black fur
hoping to see your many faces
relaxing in your favorite places:
the nappy chair
the bird-filled sill 
the bathroom tub
that homemade quilt – 
but you’re not there
to pest with a kiss
and boy oh boy,
your mews I sure miss.
It’s too quiet now – 
like our house is a castle
empty for 100 years – 
my heart guilty or barren
my eyes filled with tears. 
Perhaps this all proves
to whoever needs to know, 
you were never just a cat
for certain, I know that.