Dog Biscuits (the cat)

my sister,

the artist that she is,

named her cat

'dog biscuits'.



i was recovering



going through one of those weeks

when the ceiling

would spin

and the only thing

i could take in



was water.



and this stupid fucking cat

wouldnt stop purring.



i'm more of a dog person anyway.



they are so much more honest.

wearing their emotions on their sleeves;

while cats always seem

mischievous,



never trying to please.



i was taking a hot shower,

for about an hour,

trying to forget about life



altogether.



when the hot water ran out,

i grabbed a towel,



and dog biscuits opened the door.



we made eye contact.



it was one of those surreal

moments in time when you realize

that you really are nothing.



or maybe that you are something,

when you connect with a living being.

without words or language or body gestures



two organisms on the same plane,

connecting.

thinking, being, living

simultaneously, without

acknowledging each other's existence.



just basking in the dampness,

the dank

succulence

of the post-shower sogginess



that cleanses the soul.



and sobriety has

a eery

way of making you think beyond the box.



me and dog biscuits, we connected.

and it's funny because

whenever i go back home

he

finds his way to my lap,

looks me in the eyes,

and acknowledges my presence.



and I never really cared much for cats.