Since I can’t have a pet, I have a white stuffed toy that is serving as the replacement for my cat, Brutus.
I call it “Fake Brutus.” It doesn’t really look like a cat.
Here’s a poem.
Fake Brutus
Fake Brutus sits on my bed
And does not shed.
Fake Brutus is quiet and good
And does not need food.
Fake Brutus neither scratches nor bites
And does not celebrate the Festival of Lights.
(Real Brutus didn’t do that either, though.)
Fake Brutus sucks.
I sure miss my cat1.
1 Who I also fondly call Stumpy, the Nutless Wonder, due to two surgeries he’s had.
