Even The Cat

Even the cat grows older

 we no longer brace

for her to dart out

the open door,

no longer pressing

for freedom

to be in the garden

from dawn until long after dusk.

Now she merely lifts

an indifferent eye

curled in her comfort 

zone kitty basket.

Even the cat grows old

and bothered by the heat

or visitors in her domain.

For unknown reasons

she licked her belly bare

looking pathetic

from the rear view end.

These days she wears

purple pajama pants,

sentenced until

her hair grows back

in hopes she will have forgotten

her neurotic ways.

Some days she escapes

this human-like bondage

until she, who

was the girl dressing her cat,

explains to the disbelieving feline

it is for her own good

and puts them back on

despite indignant protest.

Even the cat's life

is captured

by the aging ways

of days.