Back Late

Oh. You’re back.

It’s late. Very late.

I’m angry with you.

First, I hear you.

Your key jiggles in the lock.

Harsh, metallic, loud, unsteady.

Then, I smell you.

It’s you, your smell but…different.

It’s sharper, sourer, a little bit bitter.

Soon, I feel you.

You’re sad. Very sad.

Something bad happened tonight.

It comes off you in waves,

Pulsing through the air

And soaking through my skin.

I sense that you’re looking for me,

But I’m angry that you’re back so late

And I’ve been alone all this time

So I don’t go to meet you.

I’m hiding. Sulking.

Pretending I don’t care you’re back.

And then I see you.

Your face looms above me.

And you reach for me.

I jump up,

Bolt across the room,

Avoiding your outstretched arms.

You slump down onto the bed.

Your shoulders hunch and

Your face is in your hands.

The sad waves get stronger.

I smell salt and feel wetness in the air.

I try to resist, but I know you need me.

Also I’m hungry.

So I rub my face against your ankles

And I let you stroke my ears.

I make the sound that means “Food!”

You pick me up and I feel you relax

As my soft fur I spent all day grooming

Brushes your face.

You take me to the kitchen

And serve me my favorite food

And, for now, we are both happy again.