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A little cat poem today because cats make the world more beautiful...

unless they happen to be horking up a hairball. 
Nobody can be gorgeous all the time.

A little cat poem about a little cat



The cat sleeps in my chair

at the table

I tip the chair slowly

imagining  she will slip gently down

land easily on her feet

and find another spot to lick her paws

and loll and purr and sleep


her claws cling to the wicker seat

with the tenacity of a burdock in a wool sock

fibers of the wicker chair snag and snap

enough for her to lose her grip

the cat stands for a moment

indignant

she slinks off

there are more comfortable places to sleep

couch

or

bed

I sit with my toast and my book

realize

I have left my coffee in the kitchen

30 seconds

or less

to walk to the kitchen and walk

back

I return

to find

the cat

curled and sleeping

in my chair


Comments

Paul Pickering said…
or its evil twin.
which all cats have.
which is why it is
impossible
to stay angry or call them
bastards
and really, really mean it.
the 7 inch bloody scratch
on my leg is
evidence
of an evil twin.
July 27, 2012 at 8:33 PM
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