They are always with me.
I am always with them.
Two chunky cats
with full stomachs and thick thighs like mine.
Two who don’t belong here
but are here.
Two family members picked up by my mom.
In our rooms, we can play with them,
but my brothers only study and ignore their strength.
Their strength is their claws.
They use them for nearly everything.
They use them to cling to whatever they climb,
or whenever they need to defend themselves from prying dogs.
This is how they protect.
If someone were to forget why,
they’d hide like mice in the walls,
each buried in another’s arms.
Protect, protect, protect
they say whenever we are together.
They preach.
Now when I can’t keep protecting myself,
when I am a mouse against so many predators,
that’s when I turn to the cats.
When there is nothing else to turn to.
Two who protect themselves
despite the larger animals all around.
Two who fearlessly use their claws.
Two who only want to exist.