Hangin’ with Pop,
slimmer and
half the weight
of either cat.
Sprawled full length
there’s still plenty of room
for the laptop.
Head hanging ten
off one ankle,
back feet bathed in
warm computer air.
Black and white fur
against crocheted
white blanket.
One eye closed,
one on the bird feeder,
an ear cocked
tracking the kitties.
Now and again a rise,
a big yawn and
a good shake,
then a muzzle stuck over
the top of the computer,
just to make sure Pop
is paying attention.
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