Foxie

I wanted to name her Baby.
My mother had the sense to suggest that there might
Come a time when she grows up,
And so I changed my answer to Foxie.

Foxie.

Thinking back on it now I don't believe the name suited her.

She was a grand creature, even when no bigger than my hand.
Elongating her form to stretch languishly over the arm chair,
Prancing ever-so-silently throughout the house
With an air of sophistication and regal authority.
She was a queen among mere humans
And I always believed she knew it.

Yet on my sad days,
When daddy forgot to pick me up for our weekend
Or mommy was too stressed out from work to play
She was never above rubbing against my leg for a pet,
Licking my tears to give my hope a bath,
Purring blessings upon my heartache.

On sunny days she would attack the fringes of my jeans,
Hiss protective warnings against dumbfounded dogs,
Meet me on my pillow for a midnight dream.

Years later, grown up,
I learned to lick my own tears,
Pray for my own blessings,
Defend my own heart,
Cut the fringes off my jeans.

I never realized my actions said my goodbyes.

As I moved forward and on,
She took her bow unnoticed,
Ever the lady of my heart
A queen named Foxie.