You think you’re just caring for a cat. Turns out, it’s a masterclass in emotional boundaries, intermittent rewards, and learning to love without expectation.

The cat ran off again.
That’s what happens when you try to cage it.
It wants freedom, not to be fenced in.

When you call for the cat,
It turns away—independent, they say.
That’s how cats are.
They come and go.

You think maybe it doesn’t like the treats you offer,
But to be honest, it’s just finicky.
It prefers beef, not turkey bacon.
Even its hunger comes with terms.

You go to look for the cat.
Predictably, it’s in the neighbors’ yard,
Chewing on their marigolds.

You hope to stroke its furry head,
But it recoils and demands to sniff your hand—
As if it’s already forgotten your scent,
Right after it ate the table scraps from your palm.

Yet, you’re still dedicated.
And you’ll repeat the process all over again—tomorrow.

That’s the life of a cat owner.
Constantly wondering if it remembers your kindness.

All the while, you’re willing to give yourself away,
For the furry soul that it is.

—Tina Marie

---

Poem: Silk & Claws