She sits on the couch right next to me,
soft, and adoring, yet distant and free.
My dear old kitty, my sweet precious cat,
peculiar, and foreign, and almost fat.
She's the big little girl who likes to repose,
a 6 year old cali with a pink dewy nose.
Her paws are all white but for tan on one toe,
her reflex is cautious, surprisingly slow.
Her tummy is baggy, I'm sure she's had kittens,
she's never once scratched me nor have I been bitten.
I rub her chest as she sleeps in a ball,
she never resists just hangs like a doll.
My favorite part is when I wake up,
and she's right beside me like the most loyal pup.
She'll wet my finger with small ginger licks,
if I'm lucky and quiet and move not a bit.
These golden moments slip into my heart,
feeding me joy when we are apart.
She doesn't play, never jumps on my lap,
nor rubs up against me, content just to nap.
But she'll let me pet her under the chin,
her obvious pleasure making me grin.
She always cries when I pick her up,
but humors me well 'til my minute is up.
We have a good time Loretta and I,
she trusts me, I love her, it's simple and fly.
"They'll steal your heart" I've heard said of beasts,
and now I know mine would rip at the least.
And so as I bury my hands in her fur,
her eyes lock on mine and she lets out...a purr.