going hunting...be back later

"I told my cat I was going hunting."
she told me from across the silver make-shift desk.
I handed her the pen.
Her withered fingers grasped it firmly as she signed.
The man next in line unbrilliantly muffled a laugh.
I smiled knowingly to him
and then to her.
She hummed to herself
with not a care in the world.
Suddenly I wanted to be her.
Her, who was going home to see her cat.
Her cat who loved only her and cared for no one else.
Her cat who was her life partner in her old age.

I placed the milk in her buggy
and she was off.
Off to hunt
and strip a chicken's feathers.
Off to bait a hook.
Off to get into her car,
and go home to feed her cat.

And I held back tears.
Tears of jealousy.
I want a cat to come home to
who looks at me like I am the center of a universe.
Not because he has to but because I am.