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Richard Priory of Sion

Good afternoon, fine, anonymous denizens of the World Wide Web. On your phone? Are you connected to a network? Sometimes I turn WiFi off then forget to turn it back on… To the one person who perhaps was just saved the better part of 7 cents, you are exceedingly welcome. Everyone else, you knew the risks of reading this foolishness, now bask in the glory of your poor decision-making! BAAASK! Thank you, by the way, you are all amazing!

So, slightly sad news, the adorable fuzz-kitten that was my ancient, 22-year old tabby passed away yesterday. It was at the vet and super peaceful and whatnot so all things considered I think we all came out of it relatively unscathed. Well, not Cally, (the cat), so much, but how far can you expect to live beyond 100?

I wanted though to re-share 2 older pieces written in her honor. One comedic, the other more pragmatic in its acceptance of mortality. Fixed a couple linguistic miscues as well. Much obliged, friends.


“Catch 22”

Desperate eyes never leave yours

Looks right up at you from all fours

Cajoling taps upon your shin

Begs for you to please God begin

I dole out rubs, 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.


“Requiem for a Hairball”

A tragic plot we must outlive

Those who selflessly spirit give

All that we can do in the end

Treasure each day with furry friend

Comfort is sometimes hard to find

When you seek within humankind

They ask nothing from us save love

Perfect gifts were sent from above

One day, too soon, to be returned

Having their wings and halos earned.


She was a fine creature and will be forever recalled as such. At least until my own encroaching senility equalizes to her former advanced level. At that point I’ll have bigger problems. Like remembering to turn off the stove after using it to light my enthusiastically legal marijuana cigarette. Isn’t that what happened to Richard Pryor? Perhaps not.

That’s all for me. Don’t feel bad about the cat, it was her time, she was loved for a more than a lifetime and as for me, I still have the even fuzzier Catherine the Great as a snuggling companion. I just wish she would let ME be the “big spoon” sometimes.

Happy trails and wagging tails to you all, your human loved ones and your animal familiars.

-Alex Blaikie

What was with the Priory of Sion joke? Ask Dan Brown… he can probably get to the bottom of it… eventually anyway.

JK, Love you DB, Angels and Demons was fantastic!

Seriously, I’m leaving now. And I’m too tired to meticulously proofread OR to not start a sentence with the word “and”. Thereby disregarding my unfounded belief of such use of a coordinating conjunction as being the devil.

 

Categories: new poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

4 replies

  1. It is hard to say goodbye to a longtime loved companion, isn’t it? They give so much and ask so little. Last year I had to say goodbye to my 18-year-old cat Annie, my funny valentine. Now her picture is on my wall, her ashes are on my shelf, and her memory is forever in my heart.
    I believe that all cats when they die go to Kitty Cat Lane, where the sun always shines and the mice are slow and fat. Perhaps your Cally and my Annie will meet there.
    Take care. I enjoy your poems.

    Liked by 1 person

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