Lionel returned spurned. His rep at the vet is earned. Written on his folder, big, bold, and highlights: “BITES”
First escape, he got into ten fights. Brown and white tabby. Got dots, long lean legs. When he’s hungry, he hits me, our other cat begs. One time I got home, he’s asleep, like in bed, but out on the porch, not inside, safe, instead. Snapped up a picture, sent Leah a text. Lightly grabbed him, and screaming is all I knew next...
Lionel. Bites so well. Lionel. Bites so well. Lionel. Bites so well. Lionel. Bites so well.
He slashed up my hand, although he’s lost seven teeth. A slice to the top, and a puncture beneath. We got through the door, dripping blood on the floor. Leah thought it was nothing, in spite of the gore. Proved the ER was needed, that is for sure.
They got the prescriptions, the magical cures. Learned they can’t stitch it up, since the germs multiply. Thanks to puss, pus explodes, no antibiotics, I’d die. Physician taped the cut shut, leaving part open wide, so it drains like a faucet, xanthic ooze out the side.
In days, my hand swelled, like a glove full of air. People laughed when I told them. I didn’t care. I still love Lionel even though he did that. But think twice if you find him alone on the mat.
Lionel. Bites so well. Lionel. Bites so well. Lionel. Bites so well. Lionel. Bites so well.
Zane Zeidler-Ordaz received his J.D. from the University of California, Irvine School of Law.