Maximum cat, you are,
I say to the big guy sprawled on his side
on my office floor, where I have
joined him for a time, still getting him
used to the idea of me, as together
we get used to the idea of not having
Mother in the world.

Do you miss her? I ask as he gets up,
winds past me, his tail high.
I run a hand over his back where
the fur is nicely regrowing after Dr. Sue
shaved off the mound of mats he arrived
with. Less encumbered, he seems
to be thriving, though I wonder if
animals remember the ones who
once loved them.

If, as I’ve long theorized, that,
after we die, all that’s left is the love,
she, who had a hard time showing affection,
left it behind in this big black-and-white
furball—another beating heart in the house,
she used to say— who walks through
my life sounding his little radar call,
looking for someone to respond.

And, as she used to, from wherever I am
in the house, I call, Maxi, I’m here!
until he finds me and fixes me with his
big, green eyes—several shades brighter
than hers, not unlike mine—and often
settles someplace nearby, radiating
big kitty love—hers through him
to me.

•••

Thanks again to Dr. Sue Lester (aka the OG BFF)
of Four Paws Animal Clinic in Nevada City for the great
cleanup job she and her team did on Maxi in January.