She didn’t want me to show you her jawline because my clumsy hand had lent it a possum-like delineation which we agreed was unflattering.
Old calico’s not what she used to be.
Humps distances on three arthritic legs —
Lost the left front one to the damned cancer.
Squats stiffly to do her businesses,
Emits dependably roof-raising yawps
To tell the world she’s on the piss-tired side
Of the house. This bump in the road called life,
She says, is not a bump, it is the road.
The furrball question mark that found my dad
More than a decade and a half ago
Now’s five-and-a-half pounds of senior cat,
And mine the job received to see her through,
Squirt thyroid medication down her throat,
Set her a bowl, say good girl when she goes.
He named her Spot. She keeps me on my toes.
(c) 2026 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved
