Haircut in the summertime, fur coat in the cold;
Always changing fashions, always the same.
He stalks from room to room,
Pitches woo to the Lady N,
Is deferent to the Princess K,
Kisses up shamelessly to get his meals,
Then knocks at the bedroom door past midnight,
To suck at your neck like any kitten.
He keeps our feet warm in December, hot in July,
Sprawls across the windowsill admiring birds on the feeder,
Seldom where you expect him, seldom where you want him,
Always endearing, confident, self-assured and full of himself.
Our other prodigal son,
Our favorite wanton boy,
Cosimo de Medici:
Named for a Renaissance prince
And we’re pretty sure he is one.