Pet

The dog’s muzzle is white now. It was not always white. It was brown like sand. He runs for the ball. He is not fast. He stumbles. He looks at you. His eyes are the same. You see the years around them.

The cat sleeps. She sleeps in the sun. She used to walk the rooms. She owned the house. The queen. Now she finds the warmest place. She stays there. She meows. The sound is gentle. You remember her loud calls for food. You give her the food. She eats. Then she sleeps again.

You watch them. You remember them small. They were fast. They made noise. Now they are slow. They make soft sounds. You touch their fur. The fur is different. Soft. But different.

The house is quiet. The quiet is a good quiet. But it is a different quiet. It is a waiting. You do not speak of it. You do not need to. You see it in their slow walking. They see it in your hand. The way they are pet. Softer.

You give them what they need. Food. Water. Warmth. Your hand. They give you what they have. A slow wag. A purr. A look. It is enough.