A DECREPIT CAT
Folds of fat flaky skin rub
across the rug as she waddles
to her dish.
A great gurglish purr like
heavy phlegm says “Good Food”
I clear my throat.
Greasy grey hair wears away
leaving a white ring where
her collar used to be.
Unclipped claws snag with each
step as she sneaks to her hideout
under a cluttered bed.
“They named me Makewell” she
mumbles under her purr
“Give me actions, not words.”
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