When cats go to Heaven
they rearrange the order.
First, who made God, God?
Who decided angels didn’t
need fur, tails and whiskers?
Consider tail as a talking point.
Consider tail as a tour guide.
Consider tail conversational mapping.
But whiskers — ah, they let you
nuzzle a nuzzle. Soft, sexy.
Whiskers are out there
antennae catching vibes.
Whiskers are words
translated into touch.
Fur. . . the grandest of all.
One is always dressed for any
occasion. Every occasion.
Tuxedo, calico, Bengal, leopard,
Persian. Fur is what the world
would wear if it could.
— Ruth Moose
