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Here's a first draft of a little poem for Tonks the Cat.



To the white cat sleeping on the chair

yellow eyed beauty
your purpose in this world
to be lovely
you sleep on the chair
spread across the seat,
like you were poured there
the dog, tiny thing
I can pick up in one hand,
but you I can barely lift
with two
as though you double your weight
just to make the task more difficult
the chair you occupy
is mine
overstuffed and tucked between the book shelves
I scoop at you and push you
and you move begrudgingly
with palpable disdain
as I lower myself
into my seat with my book
you jump back quicker than
a creature of your luxury should be able
you spread yourself thick and languid,
as though you'd never moved
you are certain the laws of gravity will bend to your will
you are
ready to take your chances
certain I will catch myself
before causing you harm
I gyrate and scramble
slapstick 
to prevent my awkward bulk
from crushing you
I concede the chair to the superior
being
you blink your golden eyes shut
like the headlights of a Lamborghini
I topple myself
onto the bed
next to the dog
who is happy to share
a corner of the pillow
with me.



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