I say to Poki, when she begins
to eat again after a week of languishing,
when I wondered daily if she was
on her way out,

watching, because if she was
truly dying, she didn’t seem to be
in pain—just wanted to sleep,
tolerated occasional gentle pats,

which is what we all want in times
of The Great Tired. And when she
nibbled cat treats, just a couple,
on Day 6, I wanted not to scare

her by shouting, Atta girl! So I
whispered it to her as she chewed
delicately, and then again the next
day when she ate some dry food

and the next when she ate her
usual wet food. And I find myself
murmuring it as I perform
the most mundane chores,

when I complete a task—
especially one I’m not fond of.
Atta girl, I whisper. Good girl.
You got that job done.