What Would Mojo Say


by dwayneyawned

I woke up tired this morning, as I do most days. Its still dark, and there's nary a stir about the crooked house.

The only thing that really keeps me going 

Is knowing

that breakfast will served soon.

I take a middling stretch while snuggled in my alcove.

There are bits of fluff and all manners of stuff

floating around my personal cocoon.

They've been agitated

of late, my daddies. Them three keep shifting furniture around

Gathering clunky bags of mess that keep disappearing And eating away at my space and territories 

Bit by bit.

They're also yelling at each other more these past few weeks,

I don't understand what they say to each other,

But it sounds like

"Don't peeve me!" and "I can't trust you!", "Don't leave me!" and "Can't I trust you?" Thankfully, in the flurry and madness, 

I usually get to eat thrice.


I slink down the narrow stairs only to come across a nearly impassable entwinement of legs,

when I notice the whirring -

Hmmph They've left the disco lights on again.

Circular discs of crimson, scarlet and maroon weave in and out of each other, illuminating a mass of snoring muscle too tired to notice

my subtle purrs.

The gentle thump of soft techno could be the culprit. I eye

an empty spot closer to my emptier bowl, and gingerly take a leap of faith over the tangled mess -

I've decided to let them dream a little longer while I lick my fur.

After a 2-minute long staring contest with indeterminate winner,

amidst a strewn neon singlet, I take a graceful seat next to ruffled hair, summon a look of greatest plea, and loose yet another guttural sound.

This time, a stir! My newest daddy flinches in the makeshift floor bed.

He is the kindest and brownest one. 

His voice changes when he talks to me, and even though his love for me is young, he always surprises me.

I excitedly stretch out against new daddy's nearly hairless legs as he clambers up in a hazy stupor.

My dwarfish headbutts and desperate


nudge him towards the pantry.

I hear the familiar clack of a tuna can. My ears swivel

in its direction while my predator's eyes stay transfixed

on moving red splotches that cast shadows of ominous beasts advancing upon my meal.

As the unmistakable waft of seaside umami fills my wiggling button nose, I begin the next step of my pre-breakfast ritual - 

Roaring with all my petite might to signal my gratitude and a clumsily svelte jig in laying further claim.

By now, my other two daddies have been stirred from their

slumber. They must have had a tiff before they slept.

The palest one, unmoving from his spot on the couch, mutters something sharp and dismissive as the largest one lumbers over and places a cautious kiss on the back of my feeder. 

He then gives me a reflexive scritch behind my ear.

I scrunch up in anticipation at the slight delay this causes, but soon enough my patience is rewarded. The filled tray becomes a filled stomach as I scarf my delicacy


under soft glow of fridge lights.

My daddies have retreated to the couch, nursing cups of what smells intrusively as coconut and coldness.

I hop

upon the grey-cushioned chair, perfect vantage to preen and eavesdrop upon the aftermath. My meal settles into the warm recesses of my belly and I let out a big yawn and a couple of slow blinks to nobody in particular.

This is my favourite time to watch them - the calm after the storm, the making up making out making it work.

There is also a near-zero risk of pale daddy chasing locking suffocating me with his love at this point.

They're cuddling now, their voices soft whispers full of tenderness and promises of togetherness.

It seems that despite the stresses of the mess

and their aggressive incessant chatter of moving flying striving lying to me,

loving crying driving the both of us crazy, shoving me losing you drying my tears proving me right proving you wrong airing our fears..

Somehow, they always come back together.

Somehow, they're always back at this moment, as if this moment is all that exists for them. I curiously slip off my perch. 

Swishing my tail,

I sidle up on the sofa next to the reconciliatory tangle of arms hugging and faces nuzzling, careful not to interrupt. Almost as inviting and definitely as comfy as a patch of evening sun and a green carpet, I bask in their love and warmth.

These are MY daddies.

Sometimes I feel like they're addicted to drama and the cycles of destruction and creation. 

Typical humans.

After what seems like an eternity, they reluctantly peel apart from their embrace.

A voice rings clear and my ears 

and hopes are perked again - 

"Has anyone fed Mojo yet?"

#catdaddies #prose #poem


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