Ode to a kitten

Hypercube grows without knowing it, her memories all of smaller times.
It takes longer for her to bathe herself. The world shrinks
and there is no reason to think it can do otherwise.
The table comes within jumping range, other cats grow shorter.
She dreams of one day spanning the couch with her nap,
of batting me across the floor, of someday pushing by necessity out
of the house, sleek and hungry for the next level.
How many levels does this game have, she will wonder
as she purrs, waiting for the cars to become toylike.