birdmad as i'm sitting here, surrounded by nothing but the usual debris and the sounds of the city at night, tonya curls up next to me, purring, offering an inquisitive "mrrow?" before settling in scrunched in as tightly as she can wedge herself between my hip and the coat wadded up on the couch

then i remember, seven times out of ten, she'll pick the laundry warm from the dryer over me

Shadow offers no pretense of this and sleeps, shedding happily on the rust-discoloured pair of folded white slacks on the chair at the foot of the bed

so i know that though Tonya probably regards me sometimes as little more than litterbox cleaner, feeding device and source of radiant heat, she's purring noisily as she sleeps wedged in here next to me

at least there's that.
Death of a Rose birdmad,

you always bring a smile to my face.
what's it to you?
who go