Miss Fluffers
I'll bet your cat will disagree.
Living all alone.
In the basement
Without thee.
Poor dead fluffers.
Mangy and full of rot.
She once was so happy.
And now she is not.
I'll bet your cat will disagree.
Living all alone.
In the basement
Without thee.
Poor dead fluffers.
Mangy and full of rot.
She once was so happy.
And now she is not.
Flutter, flap, flutter
go the little wings.
Flutter, flap, flutter.
Rat-a-tat-tat
goes the silly kitty.
Mreoow!
Pounce! Leap!
The kitty gives chase.
Lunge. Crouch.
Stupid or brave we
do not know
but the butterfly
lands on the kitty's nose!
*blink* *blink-blink*
Confusion abounds,
the cat is sleepy,
and thus ends our poem.
To lick a cat
is to know
hair-balls.
To lick a popsicle
is to know
cold.
Wither is better?
I cannot say,
for I need to
cough up another
hair-ball.
Woah!
I caught something.
Nope.
Never-mind.
It was just a piece
of your collective imagination
crumbling into dust.
And my attention span . . .
waning into the night.
Keening
like the siren call
of a dead cat
chasing invisible fish
through the stratosphere
of dreams.
Blissful slumber.
Sleeping.
Sleeping comfortably.
A soft warm fuzziness
envelops
my senses.
Soothing sounds
as of a gentle motor
lull me to sleep.
The smell of the ocean
invades my nose.
Rotting fish!
My nose, exposed to the world,
receives
a short wet, rough lick!
"Wake up Daddy!
I want my breakfast,"
says the cat.
Wind and rain
howl about
bringing whispers
of days to come.
Which witches will
snitch your stitches
and leave you
in the cold?
Oh my! A black
cat, clawing his
way up my back.
Ow.
A cauldron! It bubbles
with eye of newt
and spleen of rat.
Yummy!
Man, that's the
last time I eat
a mushroom
the winds bring me.
Cat.
On my lap.
Refuses to relax.
Instead, he prefers to get hair in my coffee.
Stupid shedding cat.
My xmas tree so green
and fir-like
has no shortage
of attention
from my black
and white
cat.
He guards against
squirrel attack.
Never letting
the tree
out of
his sight.
It's working.
A knight of sleep
no man can beat
he roams the sheets
his vigil complete.
Stupid cat. Get your
own food; quit waking
me up. I'm not a
feline vending machine.
Spence was a kitty cat.
He played with my hat.
Then had a spat.
With the neighboring cat.
