Tag Archives: cats

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Let’s go to the fair

 

This one is a few years old, from back when I was young and bitter, heh. I’m glad I got older and am now very slightly less bitter. Ahh, it’s good to be breathing the fresh free air of being very slightly less bitter.

Yeah I’m in a weird mood today. Need blood. Anybody wanna loan me some blood? Need sleep. Anybody want to borrow my hyperactive-only-at-midnight kitty? He’s very large and noisy and destructive. All he asks is for constant attention and food and play from 11:30-1:30. If you can wear him out, then pin him down for ten minutes and withstand the battle damage, he’ll go right to sleep like an angel.

 


 

Let’s go to the fair
And have a nice time
Eat cotton candy
Make ourselves sick on deep fried foods
Spin until we can’t see straight
And win a giant stuffed animal
By popping balloons with darts

Yay, that was fun
I feel ill

It was worth it
To see you smile
You smile so rarely anymore
My sweet thing
It doesn’t take much
Or rather
It takes an entire fair
Organized and operated by hundreds of people
Sixty dollars for tickets, food, gas
And you need to get tossed around violently by machines.

But it’s a small price to pay
To see you smile
Dear god I’d do anything to see you smile
Fuck don’t leave me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

How cold is it?

 

It’s so cold outside.

“How cold is it?”

It’s so cold, I couldn’t go for a run, or even a walk, without turning right around and going back inside.

It’s so cold it was not a one-pants, not a two-pants, but a three-pants day.

It’s so cold that my house window was iced shut.

It’s so cold that Cowdog Creatives’ car refused to open its door and afford me shelter. 

It’s so cold that I could lean my weight against the bitter wind and lose my eyesight at the very same time.

It’s so cold that if I opened my mouth to talk, the wind on my teeth felt like biting ice cream.

It’s so cold that work sent an email blast giving us tips on how to dress warm. Apparently layering is key?? Do I wear my waterproof jacket on the inside or the outside layer? Are gloves a good idea? Still confused on how to dress warm, need more help.

 

And it’s just. Getting. Colder.

 

When I was a kid, I loved the cold. I was just brimming with vitality, and layered with brown fat, a little living toaster. I always warmed my friends’ hands for them. My resistance to cold was a point of pride. But I’m just getting older and wimpier with each passing day. I prefer bed to everything. Bed is warmest. If I must leave the house, you’d better believe I’ll be wearing my hat and scarf and gloves and several outfits.

I blame the cats. They sleep on my feet every night and keep me warm, thus raising my heat threshold. In the words of every old man I’ve read about but never met, I’m gettin’ soft. Need to start sleeping on the floor, it’s good for the back.

Oh God I just aged again didn’t I?? It happens when you stop paying attention!

I tell Cowdog Creatives that we must never let errant gas escape us without the other calling us out on it. I don’t want belches and farts to stop being funny. I don’t mind the wrinkles and I really don’t mind the cold but please, don’t let the farts stop being funny.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Cozy Kitchen Poem and Evil Cat Journal

 

At 5:30 Sunday morning, I awoke to the sound of Satan himself breaking into the bedroom. Kato kitty had seen another cat outside the window, which lent him evil feelings, put a crack in his pure soul, and allowed the devil to possess him.
I’m not sure what exactly I heard but I actually woke up screaming. I’m not an easy girl to scare but oh my god he got me good, and whatever I felt, Don felt it times three. Needless to say, he wasn’t allowed to haunt the bedroom anymore; he was liable to eat any one of us in this state. I got him in the kitty equivalent of a full Nelson put him in the garage until the possession had passed.

 


 

 

What is it about a kitchen.
Warm and cozy
Oven on
Skillet toasting
The smell of butter and onions
Or homemade bread
Or chocolate chip cookies
Puts its arm around your shoulders
And plants a warm kiss on your cheek.
The kitchen chairs are rarely the most comfortable
But it doesn’t matter
Everyone is too happy to care.
Talking, tasting, drinking, joking
Home is where the hostess is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

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