Nine Lives

i started with one
cat, just one, but
we weren't getting along,
so i added another,
then another.
and then there were
nine. i had become a cat
rancher. i had a litter
box in every corner, the
dog looked at me like
i was crazy. i lied
to the cats telling
each one how much i
loved and cared for them.
i told all of them that
they were special,
and the only one despite
the obvious evidence
of the other eight.
the stray hairbrush,
the lipstick cannister
under the bed, a high
heel there, a pair of
torn nylons in the bath
room. that long strand
of blonde hair on my
black sweater. i called
them by the wrong names,
i became forgetful
about what they ate,
or how they liked to
be petted and cared for.
i realized the folly of
my ways, but i couldn't
help myself, because in
a strange way i did
love them all and the
feeling, at least for
awhile, seemed mutual.