Cats, 2017-

When I tell you that I have two cats
and that they are best friends
and that I rescued them from the pound,
You probably think that is very sweet.

And if I show you a picture of Mochi
--orange, very fat--
or Meeka
--black and white, angry, lithe--
you'll say "How cute!" and mean it.

But that's because you've never
fallen out of bed ten minutes late just to land on a sour old hairball,
or listened to Meeka scream to be petted and then scream because you dared to pet her,
or stared in concern while Mochi licked the same salty place on your arm for ten minutes,
or risked your life to clip a single Meeka claw.

And you have certainly never contemplated the umami way that two furball dingbats make a quiet evening at home that much richer by providing a background purr that won't quit.
Or at least it won't quit for a while, because isn't it true that cat lives come in sets of nine because they're bite-sized?

I don't know. But when this moment is swallowed up by whatever is beyond, there's no bitterness that lingers.
Just a feeling of being full, and satisfied, because happiness is flavored by all measures of love.