Louis
he looks like a Picasso, come to life
in charcoal and white,
pink skin showing through
he was hard to woo
but i wore him down
with warm milk and an old down comforter
i was sick with pneumonia
but every day i would bundle up in layers and call to him in the garage
"little one'' id call "click click" (the standard call of the wild) 'Little one"...
and he would peek out from behind a box or trash can and he would smell the
wounderous presents i brought
the catnip mouse on a string and the steam rising in the frigid cold from the
warm milk
"little one" each day would come a little closer and rub on my shoe
or nip at my hand
until one evening he watched me go through the porch door and followed
greeting the others with his belly dragging on the cold tile
he is part of the fold now, we call him Louis
and he drives the elders crazy
he talks in a dove like coo and stretches his neck for you to scratch
bella tolerates this behavior
but secretly likes him very much
our little Picasso
much more precious our little work of art
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