My Cat Has Been Put Out

and she’s pretty pissed off.
The vet said something unkind about her weight
and now she’s put out about it every day.

My cat has been put out
and she’s stalking every door,
peering inside as I work from home
or rather, write poetry about it.

My cat has been put out
which I consider fair exchange
for a cat too tired at night
to start trouble with the other cat
whose manners (and weight) are impeccable.

My cat has been put out
and she kneads the weather stripping
with her claws and keeps stopping
the garage door from closing
because she runs toward it as I
try to close it
because if there’s anything worse
than being out it’s being stuck
in the garage, the worst of both worlds.

My cat has been put out
and she turns up on the window
over the front door sometimes
clever enough to find a path
from a fence to the roof
to another unexpected spot to gaze at me
like something from Dante, but
not clever enough to get down.
I ask her to pose like Maneki Neko
while she’s up there but she just whines.

My cat has been put out
into a big world full of things
I know she runs around in
when I’m not home,
but the observer effect
has us both in its thrall.
My presence gives her false hope
of laying around in the air conditioning
eating cat food,
and her presence is distracting me from working.

My cat has been put out.

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