Vagabond

I picture him tipping the stick back,
finding that spot where the bag
hangs easy across his furry shoulder
(do cats have shoulders?) though I have
not yet decided (my dream flits back
and forth) if he’ll hold it with a front paw
or his teeth (I’m always inclined to keep
his teeth busy) or arrange some clever
contraption that will leave him free
to walk and bite (that’s why I keep the teeth
busy) and yowl (and the mouth) that he
is misunderstood that the food in his dish
does not involve turkey despite his love
of turkey and his dislike of fish (ask how much
fish is in there) and his love of gravy
and his dislike of the kibble and the dry
and the hobo bag is filled with cans
of food (though he lacks thumbs) I should
dream it more like a whole fish (but he
doesn’t like fish) or a ham the size
of a much bigger cat than he is
(until he eats the ham).