Ages ago, a big orange cat
used to hoist himself up

behind my father’s head
resting in his recliner,

crowning the man we loved,
the only one who could

apply eye medicine to
Big Red’s baby greens,

the trusting kitty who’d go
boneless in my father’s

strong arms. And now,
my mother’s kitty

hops up behind my
tower of bed pillows,

curls himself behind
my curls, laying a paw

on my shoulder,
his crowning glory

anointing mine, as
royal felines do,

blessing the mere
mortals who serve

their furry majesties.