i'm a bad cat owner
i forget about miki most of the day. she rarely crosses my mind between breakfast and bedtime. i’ll sometimes come home at lunch with treats, leave a light on if i know i’ll be late - small efforts to make up for the neglect.
i adopted her just before moving to this town. a friend found her buried on the second page of the shelter website. two years old - quiet and forgotten.
she hid for the first few weeks. once, she disappeared for thirty hours - trapped in a cupboard. didn’t cry, didn’t pee. i found her by accident while reaching for a pot.
i couldn’t get the food timing right. she hated closed doors. it took her nearly two years to sit on my lap.
now she sleeps beside me. waits for breakfast. nuzzles into my leg when i pat her. i think she trusts me.
still, i do forget her. i’m so caught up in my own mind - the blog, my memories, my regrets - that i barely notice the one being who’s always here for me, who only wants a few kind words and a warm lap.
i’ve spent years trying not to be a prick to people. maybe it starts with being kinder to something that depends on me.
i’ll go now. pick her up - even if she complains - plonk her on the couch and tell her about my day.