My Companion.

You are my companion,
and I love you as one.

Although,
some mornings I awake and you resemble a ferret—
or more to the point, a sea lion.
And on the very odd occasion,
you look like a squirrel foraging for nuts.

I’ve even gone as far as believing
you really are a miniature tiger,
prowling and pouncing at its prey,
which seems to be my feet
wrapped in dawn-coloured sheets.

You, my companion, never forget to tell me
you love me. But the love I return,
sometimes, is too much for your little soul.

A little nip on the nose,
my companion,
is all that I need to remind me of this.

You often make me think you are
a feline Vincent Gallo—
Buffalo 66-esque in your persona.

Hug me, hug me, hug me.
Don’t touch me!

My love for you can be quite overwhelming,
can’t it, little one?

But we are, my companion, spanning time together.

Then there was that post-acid trip morning,
where you licked my salty, drugged tears away.

And often, more often than not,
you watch me shower—
as if you are a constant furry shadow.

Sometimes, I question
who is master and servant.
But I’m proud to be your equal.

And although, to the untrained eye,
you are just a furry ball
sleeping or singing for food,
I can’t live without you,
my companion.