It's Still Life

The Cat and The Book of Obsolete Words
(A Masterclass in Feline Flattery)

The cat is sprawled across the Dictionary of Forgotten Tongues,
one claw resting delicately on the entry for:

“Philofelist”: n. A lover of cats.

“You,” he announces,
with the gravity of a judge delivering a life sentence,
“are clearly a philofelist.
It’s archaic.
It’s dignified.
It’s literally written here,
in Latin-adjacent ink.”

The Old Woman peers over her spectacles.
“And you,” she replies,
“are a sesquipedalian.”

The cat freezes.
Ears tilt.
“…Is that a compliment?”

“It means you use long words.”
She pauses.
“Usually incorrectly.”

The cat sniffs.
“Well.
Regardless.
You admire me.
You feed me.
You tolerate my 3 a.m. operas.
By definition—
you are philofelist.”

He flicks his tail,
then adds,
“And I…
am your muse.”