If I had to pick a favorite cat
it would be the cruel one,
the bitter one
who comes to you rarely when called,
and will at random
– but always within eight minutes –
nip at your stroking hand
before hurtling away
prior to any instinctive strike
I might make
from my now-bleeding paw.

I would choose the chaos creature
that will silently judge,
keeping quiet counsel from a distance
atop some perch
to better hunt those birds
that will never even enter her environment.
She will occasionally provide
the remains of a rat
as an unrequited token of esteem.

I will sit with the vicious one,
the sharp one,
the hard one,
taking pleasure in those rare moments
of softness
when she whims it.