As you may know, in addition to the dog, I have living with me a 22-year-old tabby. I say living with because I’m not naive enough to think Cally belongs to me. If anything the opposite is closer to the truth, after so many years I pretty much just give her what she wants at this point. She sleeps all day, waking only occasionally to gorge herself on food and drink. That’s the life for me. It’s always such an inspiration to meet your heroes.
I put this together last night while I was actually trying to write something else but someone had other ideas. This is a fairly regular occurrence usually just necessitating her being lifted up and positioned directly in front of her food dishes.
Once finishing the chicken flavored pieces she prefers though the dance will undoubtedly begin again. But she’s so old now that it seems pointless not to accede to her somewhat tiresome demands. Bring forth the chickeny bits!
This is Catch 22, April 15, 2018.
Desperate eyes never leave yours
Looks up at you from all fours
Cajoling taps upon your shin
Begs for you to please God begin
I dole out rubs at a languid pace
Annoyance shows upon her face
Her mewling cries echo quite loud
I at last rise as does she proud
That pestering borderline rude
Has earned another bowl of food.
Thankfully the dog is extremely grateful in performing clean up duty for the less delicious pieces Cally flings aside. Symbiosis indeed.
That’s all for me today folks. I must venture out of my igloo and earn my meager living. I’m trying to teach the dog to crochet but until that pans out…
A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.