10 Minute Prompt: Cat You Know Well (write-a-thon edition)

Propped up, spreading furry between the top of the cushion and the arm rest
Elliot's sleepy long blinks make siesta eyes.
As I walk past, brisk task intent
Elliot's paw casually lifts and perfectly snags
My clothes or my skin
A red line emerges like lemon juice on onion paper
An angry exclamation on my arm

Elliot rolls in the morning. He rolls on the bed
to make way for a stroking sleepy hand
that rubs his belly, buried in fur so soft
it feels like powder

He rolls on my body and settles upside down
in the crook of my arm
for another round of sleeping in

He rolls on the carpet stretching front legs
over his head, and back legs
away like a leaping gazelle.

I have never resisted this temptation of belly
and scratching, rubbing, rewarded
with a squeek at the end of the stretch.

Elliot asks for a lot, loudly, often, from a distance.
When I'm sitting he enforces unlimited lap access.
He tells me about his day when I've been away
He yells at me for leaving him alone
He orders me to never do it again
He asks me every morning as I'm getting out of the shower
if I really have to go to work.
"I have to pay for your roof, and your food,"
And he walks away.