Caged Fox

SAMMI’S WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT
The challenge is simple: each week you will be given an exact number of words you can use to write a poem or piece of prose.  You can use any format or style you like; go wherever your inspiration takes you.  The only rules are these:

  • your poem / prose must contain this week’s word (see note below).  The word does not have to count towards the exact word count total – it can be in the title, or the first letters of the lines of a poem can spell it out – you can be as creative as you want as long as it’s there somewhere.
  • the length of your poem / prose must match the number of words stated in this week’s challenge.  No more.  No less.
  • A note on the word: you can use any variation of the word (for example: call, calls, calling, called etc).  If you find you are struggling to use this week’s word you may substitute it for a synonym – just include a note to explain the swap.  Remember, this is supposed to be fun! 

MY RESPONSE

Small town zoo;
caged fox
pacing, pacing,
restless eyes darting,
blind to gawking humans.
Pacing, pacing,
driving me mad.

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.