Frieda and Josephine

I have 2 cats.
Frieda came first,
I drove for hours
To pick her up
After seeing a posting
On Craigslist
Because she looked
Like my previous cat
Stevesie—
My favorite cat ever—
All grey with a white belly,
Who was a perfect Buddha
Of a cat, very loving
And calm,
But died suddenly and young,
And not long after the end
Of my marriage,
Tearing another small hole
In my heart,
But it was one hole too many.
Frieda was not like Stevesie.
She had no chill.
She was all energy and
Playful biting and clawing.
I accepted the appropriateness
Of this: an attempt to make
One living being
A replacement for another
Always turns against both of you.
Later, feeling Frieda needed a friend,
I went back to craigslist
And found the cat who would become
Josephine. Another kitten. A calico.
I picked her up and took her home,
And she hid for the first month
In the couch, which she accessed through a slit
That Frieda had put in the back of it
During one of her playful kitten rampages.
I coaxed Josephine out eventually.
There was a brief power struggle between
The two cats. Frieda quickly established dominance,
And there was peace in the house.
Frieda has a wanderlust though. Ever since
She was a kitten, she would arbitrarily run
Out of an open door, jump out of an open window,
Or—in one extreme case—claw through
A window screen.
Just to get out, just to explore the neighborhood,
Probably also to honor that distinctly animal
Instinct to get laid.
At first we would freak out when she left,
But she would always come back.
Eventually we learned to respect her strong will,
And let her out when she wanted out,
Not worry too much while she was gone,
And greet her like a traveling friend when she returned.
Awhile after the ecosystem in our house had been
Established, Frieda left for an extended period.
While she was gone, Josephine doubled in size.
When she came back, she was scrawny,
And Josephine chased her under the bed,
And would growl at her whenever she came out.
Frieda stayed under the bed. She would urinate under there.
I would research the conflict, attempt mediation,
But to no avail.
One day Josephine caught Frieda at the food bowl,
And chased her out of the front door.
And that is where things stand to this day.
Frieda is now an outside cat, and Josephine has
Won the kingdom of our small house.
As I type this on the porch swing outside, I see Frieda
Sunning herself in the driveway.
I just filled both her food and water bowls (outside)
And Josephine’s (inside).
I don’t understand animal politics, but I have to reflect
On The battle between these cats.
Yes, Josephine owns the inside, but Frieda owns
The outside, and—most importantly—herself.
This kind of freedom may put a cap on life expectancy,
But looking at her now, in the sun, stretching grandly,
I have to remember that old saying about quality over quantity.