Tag: cats

A whisper in the ivy

639170

I hear a whisper in the ivy.
Is it the wind, blowing through the leaves?
On the ground, in a bed of green, covered with shadows, I see something.
I kneel down to look closer, but there is nothing there.
Another whisper. This time behind me.
And yet another. To my left. To my right.
It is the wind, and it wants to tell me something.
It breathes down my neck, past my arms, through my fingers.
“What is it?” I whisper back. “What do you want to tell me?”
Silence. The wind keeps its secrets, locked in the ivy.

Sunday Brunch

639163

I was cleaning the litterbox when I came across a human skull.
I’m pretty sure it’s human, unlike the past three skulls, which turned out to be chimpanzees.
My kitten is asleep on a chair.
Should I have stopped him after finding the first skull?
It was only a chimpanzee, right? Where’s the harm in that?
I haven’t seen any posters about missing chimpanzee skulls. Or, now, human skulls.
I tried to put a camera on the litterbox, but the power cord had been chewed on and pulled out.
The kitten is awake. I smile, and cautiously wiggle a ribbon.

Shedding

639158

We have a black cat and an orange cat.
Despite both being short-haired cats, they shed. A lot.
Every time I lay out a black shirt, the orange cat lays on it and sheds.
Every time I lay out an orange shirt, the black cat lays on it and sheds.
I know what you’re thinking: don’t lay out any shirts. Hang them up as soon as they come out of the dryer and the cats won’t shed on them.
You’re not the one carrying a pile of shirts around and the cats looking so cute, you have to pet them.

Black Cat

639159

Superstition states that black cats are supposed to be unlucky.
Friday the thirteenth is supposed to be unlucky, too.
So finding a black kitten on Friday The Thirteenth is supposed to be double-unlucky.
I’m watching the little guy run around and scamper everywhere.
Then, he curls up in a ball in my lap and falls asleep.
“How old is he?” a friend asks me, looking around for the kitten.
“Barely fits in a blender,” I reply.
His eyes get wide, and he vomits the energy drink I made for us.
“He’s at the vet getting snipped,” I say, and laugh.

The Quiet Ones

639164

It’s the quiet ones that kill.
Just sitting there, watching you from across the coffee shop.
“What a beautiful cat,” says a customer.
The owner nods, hands over the mug.
Those eyes follow you everywhere: you walk into the shop, over to the counter, back to your favorite table.
What is it about you that’s so interesting?
“Sasha likes you,” says the shop owner, smiling. “Would you like to pet him?”
You think about it, wondering what that deep orange fur will feel like, so soft, so rich.
“I’m allergic,” you say, leave a tip, and walk out the door.

Sandpaper Carpet

639159

We ripped up the carpet and put down sandpaper.
It’s easy to vacuum now. And I get great traction.
It’s a weird feeling to walk across it with my bare feet. It’s kind of like walking on the beach.
The worst part is when I spill something on it. What a mess.
The cat hates it. She leaps across the seats and tables, runs across the sofa and uses the bookshelves to get to the tile floor in the kitchen.
Anything to avoid the sandpaper.
If the cat could climb across the ceiling with her claws, she would.
Silly cat.

Wandering Cat

912508

My cat likes to wander.
He heads out the door and makes a beeline for Miami.
Spring break.
Just one stop in Biloxi, Mississippi. He likes how they prepare catnip there.
I know this because I read his credit card statements every month.
He’s not good with finances. Gets in over his head if I don’t keep in on a short credit limit and allowance.
I flick the porch light on and off a few times.
He knows that means for him to get his furry butt back inside.
I hear a meow and he’s home, fumbling with his keys.

Like A Cat

639160

Sometimes, life is like trying to find a black cat outside in the dark.
You wander around, looking everywhere, poking through all the bushes and looking under tables.
Bang a can of cat food with a fork a few times. Call out its name and whistle and meow.
Nothing.
And now, the neighbors think you’ve gone crazy.
All the while, it’s looking down at you from the fence, eyes glowing bright in the night.
You give up, turn out the porch light, and head back inside.
Life’s right there, sitting in your chair. And won’t budge.
Yeah. Just like that.

The Rainbows

636184

Maybe you’re familiar with the story of The Rainbow Bridge?
Kitty Heaven, a place to visit
It’s not quite true.
Rainbows do soar over the meadows of Heaven, majestically, but not at any bridge.
They wait for the storm to pass, the Lord’s tears dry, and they look down at the world, searching.
Like Valkyries searching for the bravest of the fallen, they seek out those who have loved and been loved the greatest.
And guide them to where that love is eternal.
No pot of gold at the rainbow’s end, but a greater treasure awaits.
The rainbows search anew.

Masturbation

636184

If you’ve read Fark, you’ve heard the adage: Every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten.
So, every time a cat masturbates, does God kill a baby?
I know the answer. And the answer is YES.
Malnutrition, ad genetics, crib death – the government and WHO make excuses, but you’ll never get the truth out of their reports.
It’s masturbating cats killing all the babies! Damn them!
Very few people know. Bob Barker is one of them.
Why do you think he kept saying to spay and neuter your pets?
It was for the children. It was always for the children.