Suavecito at 10

someday soon we will go to sleep and not wake up, the two-legged of us, and the human world will have at last fallen into the ashes to which it belongs, and this city will belong to you all, the animals, as foretold by prophecy, as written in scripture, and the roar of cars and the steady whine of HVAC systems will go dead and be replaced by the padding of light bestial feet on indifferent asphalt

sometimes you sit at the window in our apartment and gaze at the cats that lazily saunter across the fence, a casual procession of your cousins, and I know they are your counterparts but not your peers, that you are an indoor cat not just in fact but in essence, and I think of you walking out into the city as it is and shudder, fearing that you would not last 15 minutes in that world of busy streets, sharp-clawed Toms, and ill intent, and I know that if I must do anything in my life it’s to keep that window between you and that grim chaos out there, to defend that pane of glass and in so doing perpetuate your mournful longing forever, and it makes me feel sad

but in that next world, after the age of man falls, there I see no danger to you, none, you will slip through a crack in the wall, previously undiscovered, and on silent and brave paws you will stalk your lazy way across the skyline, sauntering through the Egyptian wing of a great art museum, past statues of Bast, four millennia old, that presaged your coming and celebrate your impossible freedom, and on into the grand parks now denuded of humans and their grubby busyness, choosing trees to climb and roost in for awhile, lazily regarding the waterfowl, cataloging the plumpest birds for later feasts, and when you tire of all the green you will flit silently into decaying old jewelry stores and comprehend the vainglorious human spectacle for the folly it was, leaving you free to gaze at the expensive goods, lapidary and fine, from a place of pure aesthetics, seeing all that glitters only for how it glitters, and in your mute cat wisdom you will understand the glory that attends to beauty that exists as beauty alone, and sometimes you will visit the zoo and breathe breaths with your tiger cousins, and they will defer to you, they will bring you tribute, they will bow to you as the greater and more terrible being

in this next world the great stone canyons of Manhattan will sit indifferent to the demise of the species that built them, providing shade for lazy dogs that pack together in vast hordes, chewing their fleas, and deer will come to crowd the tombs that once housed subways, and rare eagles that used to live only above the Nordic fjords will come to nest among the gargoyles of the Chrysler building, and a mother bear will teach her cubs to fish in Prospect Park Lake, and the five boroughs will become a realm of myth and prophecy, and rising above all the other beings that hunt and claim territory in this vast land will be, my Lord, you! you will be legend! you will move confidently and unthreatened across a teeming landscape of wise and untroubled creatures, most regal of all, and though no humans will remain to make statues of you, the whole vast sweep of the plains across which you unhurriedly journey will be the only memorial you need

and so today, April 1st, I cradle you while I can, knowing that my people’s time grows short, while ahead of you lies prehistoric plains that will grow like pinnacled corn from the human ossuary, and you will be lord and master of a vast kingdom that flourishes beneath your radiant example, and I say happy birthday, you are my friend, I know that you will never die