Tag Archives: Cat

For a Free Day

 

My cat sits on my computer and yowls in my face. She is smashing the letters. 

“Diva, let me do my homework,” I say, pushing her aside and commencing the deletions. 

Undeterred, she sidles back up to me, puts her paw against my thigh, and cuts her claws into my leg.

Enraged, I stand up, and she skitters a safe distance away, conspicuously near the food bowl.

I sigh and go to feed her. She always gets her way.

As I dole the food into the dish, Diva twining around my ankles in smug self-satisfaction, the phone rings.  It’s Gina at the steakhouse.

“Yes?”

“Hey… will you come in today? Kirk was supposed to but it fell through.”

“I have homework to do.”

Diva meows her agreement.

“Please? I’m really in a bind.”

I massage my temples. “Alright… alright, but you owe me.”

I grab my keys, put on my work clothes, and head out. They still smell like the restaurant from last night.

As I shut the door behind me, Diva takes advantage of my distraction and streaks outside.

Fucking cat. 

 

I get to work, put on my apron, and start taking orders. Of course Gina gives me more of the shit tables; the old church ladies who keep their change and never tip. The two-top tables, women who share a flatbread and drink a mimosa, then talk for two hours, picking at their crumbs. A poorly-dressed man with feral eyes who I suspected might be homeless. He asks for his steak cooked rare.

Wednesday afternoons at the steakhouse are never very busy, I don’t understand why she called me in. The way she was talking you’d think the place was on fire.

I go into the kitchen to find Gina gone. Gone. She’d just left without a word to me. I have to host now. It’d actually be an improvement, if I weren’t so angry at her. She might be my supervisor, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a fragment of respect.

I run the whole damn front for the next six hours, until Mina arrives. 

“She just left you?” Mina says as she ties her apron on. Her terse lips tell me she’s been treated this way, too. She shakes her head and punches in.

“Yeah. I’m pretty worn out, so you don’t mind me leaving you with my tables?”

“Tables? You mean table.”

I glance out of the kitchen. The feral homeless man had dashed while I was talking to Mina. Bastard had gotten a free dinner out of me.

Well, that was coming out of my paycheck. I just made $34 for six hours of work.

 

I come home, Diva is waiting for me. She zips back into the house when I open the door.

At least I get tomorrow off. Thirty-four dollars. What’s the point. 

I climb miserably into bed. I’ll shower tomorrow.

I wake up at eight AM. Diva demands food. I feed her, go back to bed, and luxuriate in my blankets, the warmth, the soft sheets. Diva lies in the patch of sun on my bed. I curl around her to share the rays. I’ll get hungry soon, and have to get up. But now, this is where I want to be. Today, I am free. It is a delicious sensation.

The phone rings. I look at the name. It’s Gina again.

Diva slumbers on my chest. She cracks a questioning golden eye at me, which catches the sunlight, lighting her iris in glinting amber flame. I am lost in admiration of her. 

Maybe I’ll skip class today.

The phone rings again. I won’t answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Feral Muse

 

My muse is feral.
She will not be trained.
She refuses to do tricks.
Everything is on her terms.
I try to encourage her to stay
I’ve installed a muse door
Leave food out every day
And hope.
On lucky days, she shows up
Sits beside me, soft and comforting
Humming pleasant new melodies.
Sometimes she takes the pen
Right out of my hand
And scribbles fantastic things in the margins.
She lets me hold her, but not too tight
Never too tight.
She’ll bullet out of there
If you love her too much
If you lose patience with her
If you don’t scratch under her chin
Exactly
The way she likes.
She loves you
But conditionally.
You are a means to her
And she will not hesitate
To abandon you
And visit a different artist instead
One with better food
One who always leaves the door open
Who spoils her with everything she wants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

More cat stuff

 

Yep, another cat poem. I can’t help writing about them. They’re always sitting on me.

 


 

The cat is simmering on my legs
A tub of purring fur.
My feet are toasty
In the blanket cave underneath her magma belly.
Toasty feet are happy feet.
This heat could never burn me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Yin Night

 

 

The moon dangles low in the sky
Pendulous and swollen with yin
She pours yellow light over the people
Blessing them, affecting them
The night is pregnant with her influence
I am unsettled yet productive
The cat, especially susceptible, is yowling
And by the time I get to bed
Which I have cleaned obsessively
I have three perfect scratches on my breast
From tangling with his derangement.

The night is full
The moon is young
Tomorrow is Friday
And what will the people do
Under the powerful influence
Of such a moon?
Will they drink their sad
Will they fight their anger
Will they see their fear
Will they fall in love.

The stars have joined her company.
Orion draws his bow
The Pleiades cluster shyly behind him
And the moon loves them all
Fractious, anarchist,
She loves night best
But vacates her seat from time to time
Stepping into day, disregarding order.
She had tea with the sun just yesterday
A nudge to remind him there are other, subtler gods.
Tonight she glows with his bright memory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

The Human Trap

Something about the coziness of a sleeping cat is sacred
And must not be disturbed.
They get miffed if you have the gall to wake them up,
Because they know the natural order of things.
I can wake a human with cold conscience
But a cat?
Curled into a warm ball,
Melted into my lap,
With an upturned happy little cat smile.
Impossible.
I’ll just have to stay here forever.
Nothing is as important
As letting the cat sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

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