Wedding Night, and: At the Cat Party, and: Funeral

Wedding Night

Dog had to chase her for awhile.Even then, it took time to figure outwhat went where and how.

Was all the blood normal?Should Dog be limping?Should Cat be missing claws?

It's not like they could ask their friends,the dog/dog, cat/cat coupleswho almost refused to cometo the wedding.

"Of course we love Cat, dear,"Dog's mother had said,wrinkling her nose as Catstepped out of the litter box.

Cat's thirteen maiden aunts had sewna small cloth dog and lit a black candle."A blessing, dear, a blessing,"they'd said, when Cat hissed.

Cat fled the bed and jumpedon top of the bookcase.

Dog hobbled off to sniffthe food bowl, then came back in.

"So. . . ." he said.Cat looked out the window.

Dog went to bed alone,dreamed of his balls in a jarsomewhere near Tennessee.

Cat stared at the moon all night,saw kittens with wagging tails,puppies with sharp little teeth and claws.

In the morning, she sighed.Dog woke to the sound of her lickinghis wounds.

At the Cat Party

Dog wishes he could get it right.Tuck in his thin wet tongue,tie down his wagging tail.

These cats nurse sour drinksand prowl, tails curledinto languid questions.

Languid's hard for a dog.To be seductively limp involves a certain twistingof the spine, a drape and fold of limbshe can't quite master withoutknocking over his drink.He smiles too much.

His parents always told him,"You are a beautiful dog. Never forget that."

But these curves of cats look at him askancewhen he carries a full plate to the living roomand sits on a chenille cushion.He looks like a log on a pile of sticks.

They're talking foreign films,and Dog racks his brain for wit.

He tries, but the caviar glimmers,the canapés make him drool,the lox gives way to his tonguelike a lover. He buries his face,

knowing he's only a few short minutesfrom regret, from pushing around the empty platewith his nose, wanting to lick forever and not look up,

wanting to thank, curse, thankhis maker for his tongue's strange length,its ability to swipe a whole paletteof delicate taste.

Funeral

Only Dog and Cat attend,but Dog insists they do it right.His brown hair gleams.

Cat pokes Dog, makes funof Dead Cat's fake smile.Dog glares, then bursts into tears.

He spent their savingsto buy the casket lyingopen on the ground.

Before, Dead Cat never smiled.She smirked, or scowled,or raised her eyebrow.

Cat sighs. She loved Dead Cat.But love. What's love?Dead Cat's dead.

Dog clears his throat, announces:"We loved Dead Cat. We will remember her forever."Cat thinks, duh.

Days later, Dog makes a Dead Catscrapbook, encourages Cat to talk,nods wisely at her silence.

Cat thinks how funnyit is how no one tells youthat death is not a big deal.

Dead Cat's gone.How did they ever sharesuch little space?

In his brand-new journal, Dog writes,"Some of us choose to livein denial." He looks up at Cat.

Cat yawns, arches her back.She basks in the sun a littlelonger than she used to.