'OpenMike' - Michael Moore

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Heirloom Cat by Michael Allen

Most cats have nine lives, Dorian had ninety. Passed down the generations
for decades, he was our heirloom cat. The mutation made his telomeres
get longer rather than shorter with age making him well nigh immortal.
I had him now and I was the last, an only child with no children,
in the house full of overstuffed furniture and family portraits.

•
We met at a bookstore, browsing the shelves. You came to visit several times.
Said you liked the memorabilia since you had no family.
Then you came to stay. When we talked, we finished each other’s sentences.
Then we seldom talked at all, just knew each other’s thoughts.

Then came the child, who would eventually look after Dorian.
But then came your allergies. Despite the puffers, sprays,
pills and injections, your life became a hell of wheezing, itching, and snuffling.

“It’s either Dorian or me”, you said.
You liked him, but couldn’t stand living this way.
I couldn’t bear the thought of the house without your presence.

When I left Dorian at the shelter, he just looked at me, unblinking.
Then came the happenings. Photo albums scattered on the floor,
open to kitten pictures of Dorian. My favourite armchair shredded.
And most distressing, endless cat videos playing on YouTube.

Dorian is home now. The happenings have stopped. The child is coping.
Your allergies have vanished.

And you, you’re as quiet and as lovely as ever.

The underground taxidermist has you posed to perfection.