Just A Cat

As I wrote in my rambling post this morning, our dear little Tuffy is no longer with us, having been hit by a passing vehicle last night. Here’s another poet who lost a loved pet.

JUST A CAT
by James Allen

You’ve gone, old pal! No more I’ll hear
your deep contented purr,
nor will my fingers stoke again
your sleek and cosy fur.
No more my feet will stumble o’er
your friendly arching back–
that little trick you played so well
when begging for a snack.

Those trustful eyes so deep and wise
nor more shall gaze in mine;
no more I’ll watch your graceful tread
so lordly and benign.
No more upon the window sill
you’ll sit beside my chair,
to read with me the Daily Star
and show your wisdom rare.

I found a wisp of fur today
where once you laid your head;
‘twas near the spot you loved so well–
the bottom of my bed.
I miss you, little pal of mine,
and heavy is my heart,
for in a life of noise and strife
you played a kindly part.

Methinks I hear the cynics say,
“Aw, shucks, he’s just a cat!”
They do not know, these heedless ones,
a pet is just like that:
perhaps a horse you love to ride,
a dog or maybe two;
there’s something in that bond that makes
a richer man of you.

And so a thought I’d like to plant
amid the selfish din:
a love of pets and helpless things
would make the world akin.
To “Timo” then, I pen my ode
and hope – if I may dare –
that in the Happy Hunting Grounds
he’ll find good hunting there.

This is from an old clipping saved by Bob’s Mom. Other notes on the clipping speaks of Canada as “the Dominion of” so it does back a ways. Maybe even a long-lost relative of mine. 🙂

Silence of the Cat

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is SILENCE

Much has been written about SILENCE, and many verses have been composed, but I had such an apt demonstration while I was reading others’ posts this morning that I decided to go with this example. The prompt is to be fun, so here’s mine.

Image by MonikaDesigns — Pixabay
SILENCE OF THE CAT
 
Silently he slinks
 noiselessly he springs
 a dark shape passes
 in front of my monitor.

 Suddenly the White-out
 spins off my desk
 followed swiftly by a pen.
 A few deranged paper clips
 scratch their way to the plunge;
 a rubber band leaps after.

 A deft white paw lands
 with a click on my keyboard
 and zxzxzxzx's flash
 like magic across my screen
 as Puss leaps into my lap.

 A silent creature by nature
 he has his way of insisting
 I leave this impertinent clacking
 to come play "chase the mouse"
 or at least offer a nibble from
 the jar of treats on the shelf.

 He may do his deeds in silence
 -- unless I step on his tail --
 but when he wants me
 to meet his need, he has his way
 to ensure I can't miss him.

Vacation Days

on the calendar
 she counts the days one by one
 two-week vacation

I don’t know if it’s because last night was full moon and I’m feeling a bit bold myself, or because this is the first day of “OFF-time” for me and my mind is free to create. But after some exchanging of shifts, I have eighteen days “off.” That is, I won’t have to make a meal at the Villa until nineteen days from now. Needless to say, I have lots of plans — mainly housekeeping, but hopefully some writing, too. I’m clearing my schedule of other tasks so I can devote time to editing the story I have on the go.

Also, I bought some paint brushes and am going to have a go at swirling them around on some art-quality paper. 🙂 I’ve decided that art and blogging will be evening activities during my time off; cleaning the house will be my morning duty. And I’ve blown it already with my four posts in one morning! But tomorrow…when the moon’s not so full…

The cats are indeed squirrelly. Right now Angus and Tuffy are wrestling on the carpet. Angus can join in kittenish fun, but he’s an old cat and when he gets weary of Tuffy’s rough play, he goes and jumps in the bathtub. Tuffy hasn’t figured out how to get into that, so he just peers over the edge and swats in Angus’s direction.

The temperature has come up today; it was -18C this morning and supposed to go all the way up to -12. In the last couple of days I’ve seen several flocks of grouse (8-12 in each) scooting around the prairie, finding what they can. Unless it was just one flock that got around a lot? We saw a small group in our yard one morning, not far from the bird feeder, so probably picking up what the sparrows toss out.

We went to the city yesterday, then I made supper for the folks at the Villa. Later in the evening, here at home, we listened to the family memories from our son-in-law’s uncle Dennis, who died of bone cancer a few days ago. We didn’t know him that well; those who did described him as ambitious, active, dexterous. He’d tackle about anything in the mechanical line and invented a number of things. His family said he was a faithful Christian pastor, a loving and much loved husband and father, always encouraging and supporting them. All in all a wonderful tribute!

Memo from Kitty

The Kitten

Cuddling in my bosom,
purring like a jet plane,
Kitty cracks my shirt buttons
in his sharp little teeth.

The communiqué is clear:
"I'm bored. Get up once!
Leave that fiddly stuff;
come play with me."

If I miss the message,
ever eager to clarify
his next step will be
cleaning off my desk.

Mini-but-Mighty Lion

The lion, tail twitching, silently stalked across the plush savanna. He’s spied a nut-brown orb hidden behind one of the dining room table legs and was approaching it with utmost stealth. His mind had turned it into a young warthog at a water hole and he was the ravenous beast of prey – though really he wasn’t all that hungry. Nevertheless, he was determined to capture and torture this hapless creature that dared to lie around so nonchalantly.

As he crept closer, the orb – actually a hazelnut dropped during the nut-cracking party two evenings ago – seemed to lie there helplessly awaiting its fate. The lion, tabby rather than tawny, reached out a paw and gave the creature a tentative tap with its paw. Did it have sharp fangs? Would it rear up and do battle? No. Not even a squeal. Rather, the hard-shelled thing lumbered under the table and hid in the shadows. Cowardly creature! Tearing it to shred was going to be piece of cake.

His strategy now was simple. With a flying leap his front paws landed on the creature. The blow would have crushed the spine of a true warthog, but this pee-wee brown thing was made of sterner stuff. It skittered away again, and the lion – mini but mighty – gave chase.

With a whack from his huge paw the creature rolled between two shoes. All the better! Here was a challenge. However, while he was wrestling the pee-wee mouse – for it was a baby mouse now – from between the running shoes, gnawing at the laces in his hunger and frustration – or just for fun – along came the Person of the house and ruined his adventure. As he rose into the air he saw his prey escape under the toe of one shoe.

The Person had scooped him up and was cuddling him. “You can’t tear my running shoes to shreds with your sharp little claws. Let’s see what else we can find for you.”

The lion, though he was ever so fierce, knew better than to wrestle with this tall tree of a Person, so he submitted to the indignity of being carried away to a chair and petted. As soon as he was released from captivity he leaped onto the savanna below, remembering his pee-wee mouse and those wiggling shoe laces. A moment later, however, a silvery ball began to move through the plush pile savanna.

Just as a gazelle grazing on the plains of Africa would catch the attention of his lion and tiger cousins, even so the glittering ball caught the mini lion’s attention. Back and forth his eyes flicked. Back and forth his fluffy tail lashed. His back rose in an arch as he slowly stalked the plump creature. When it suddenly made a dash to safety under a footstool, he gave pursuit. And when it darted out again, he was on it!

He’d come back and cuddle later. Right now he was the fierce hunter and there was tantalizing prey about.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: NUT-BROWN
Fandango’s FOWC: STRATEGY