Me? I’m fine. Really.

But if there’s a karma god out there

watching over broken pets,

you better know what to say.

You broke our cat.

Every day, she walks around the house in a daze.

In want of an explanation

of why she’s no longer getting those

ear rubs, the kind that makes her purr.

Of why she’s no longer seeing two pairs

of legs under the dinner table.

Of why her sleep isn’t interrupted

by your stubby face buried on her belly.

She peers into my eyes with her head slightly tilted

waiting for an answer that I don’t have.

Maybe it’s time you tell her

what happened to us.