Buddy

I wake up and he's on my chest looking at me. Feed me, he's purring. So I get up and feed him.

Minutes later he's on my morning paper. I'm reading about the gallery I won't make it to, trying to put together half sentences he's blocked.

Black coffee, the bathroom, his paw under the door.

Trying on ties. This one? No. How about this one? Next. How about now? Yeah, that's the one. Now stay home. Can't, buddy, I've got work to do.

What would he say if he could answer the phone? Does he like being left alone all day? Do I?

He's waiting by the mailboxes when I get home. Starts to dart in front of my car. I slam on the brakes. Was there a bump?

Open the door. There he's waiting. Jumps up onto my lap What took you so long? Slowly, slowly, I drive to the garage. Feed me, he's purring. Feed me, I say.