They Think She Collects China Cats
The dust on the figurines bother her,
the cats, presents from her children,
from first born to last great,
range in rows and stilted groupings
on every flat surface in her apartment.
Someone bought her a cat one day, then
someone else brought her a cat, then
another one commented “Oh, you collects cats?”
“Not really.” She demurred.
But apparently not loudly enough.
Birthdays, Mother’s Day, Christmas Day,
and any other time when they can’t think or won’t see
what she really needs or wants, they bring her cats.
She loves raspberries, jigsaw puzzles, and knitting
but they never bring her raspberries or jigsaw puzzles or yarn.
“We know you’re not allowed pets here” the broken record drones
“but this cat won’t meow or scratch the furniture!”
They bring her cats until the search
For a new and unique china cat becomes too time consuming.
Today her great grandson gave her a china dog.
For God’s sake, even the Ark only had two of each.
Tomorrow she will accidentally trip and see
how many cats she can take with her.
There’s more than one way to break a cat.