Bend 'em while they're young

I was woken up by a wet, musty smelling cat this morning. My cat, whom (if you can use that word in reference to felines) I hadn't seen for three days. The reason simply being that I'd been visiting in Pretoria for the weekend. Cats are less maintenance than bonsais. And I've been treating my bonsai like a cat (come to me I'll give you love, if you don't I'll forget). No wonder it's been.. "dormant" for months now. I refuse to admit that I killed it. It was a birthday gift, after all; responsibility in a pot. I sat with the bonsai in my hands last night, on a mission to channel some energy into its dry bark. I wanted to speak to it, but couldn't get myself to smalltalk with a dead tree. What would I tell it? "So, nice weather we've been having? Did you like the supplements I gave you? Not too strong, eh? How do you feel about the global village concept?" So I opted for visualisation. I looked at it and remembered what it used to look like; small dark green leaves, so shiny that it seemed to be dipped in wax and polished. I imagined it growing, flourishing, pushing out new buds, opening to reveal tiny purple and white flowers. I slept with it next to my head, falling asleep with my fingers tracing the branches, silenty hoping that my bonsai would speak to me in my dream; but my sleep was deep and dark, with no dreams to chew on in the morning. I remember holding the bonsai, and the next thing I saw was a wet cat talking to the rhythm of the rain outside.