She stroked the slender whiskers,
And scratched the little ears,
Then she rubbed the tiny chin,
And called the small cat, "Dear."

 

She talked and talked and shared her thoughts,
With the cat that sat and heard,
With eyelids drawn, the tabby yawned,
And stretched, meowed, and purred.

 

She told the cat about her dreams,
And about the things for which she wished,
She spoke about those folks she'd loved,
That now were gone and missed.

 

She laughed about what she used to do,
When she was young and full of sap,
She even hummed old, favorite tunes,
And tapped their beat upon its back.

 

The cat might shift position,
If a tear fell on its head,
But it would curl up more snuggly,
If two or more were shed.

 

Sometimes she didn't talk at all,
But just sat and hugged the cat,
Something warm and pleasant,
About a cat upon a lap.

 

Quiet breaths went in and out,
Too soft for one to hear,
At perfect peace - so heartening,
So safe - such faith - no fear.

 

Who gets more from quality time,

The lady or the cat?

I think their rewards are equal,

They're both so happy where they're at!