About Cats

PsychedeliKat
When I use my head
to stick under the sand
it’s a goody that beats evil
with comic heroes getting out of hand.

miaow miaow miaow
wow wow wow
is a chorus to forget
but one you’ll remember I bet.

I got a low boredom threshold
but I can’t be bothered to work out whatever that means.
A tongue I can’t hold
and a button-lipped mouth spilling the beans.

Then there’s my psychedeliKat
doing a centimetre balcony
high up and miaowing
and a doom monger below collecting money and bowing.

The Art of Almost Understanding
The language of love is open to anyone with or without soul
and anyone aiming at a foreign language can add it as a string to their bow,
but what I’m getting at, and if you haven’t worked it out yet you’re pretty slow,
is do you understand ‘Catian’, or ‘Miaowese’, or what a cat wants you to know?

Centuries and centuries of feline utterances
have had their cat owners and cat lovers hazarding their guesses.
Now, I’m not talking about ‘Catish’ for ‘Catsolute beginners’
like hissing or growling: when anyone can tell something’s not right in Denmark or anywhere else for that matter.
No, that’s easy-peasy and there are no prize-winners.
I’m talking about those noises our furry friend will use
to get through to a human ally in the few waking hours between a catnap snooze.

A miaow, like our voices, can differ in pitch and length.
and, depending on whether you’re taking any notice, (and shame on you if you’re not), in insistence and strength.
Let me elaborate which I promise won’t take a minute:
if you’re with your cat right now, he or she will get your full attention back in a bit.
First, there’s the relaxed, short, high-pitched miaow
which basically translated into human means “How’s it going?’, “Finally got up, have you?” or quite simply “Hello.”

If a bit longer and slightly higher in tone
you’d better get ready cos your cat wants something and until he or she does won’t leave you alone.
It’s your job to know what: like any language, it’s not just about connotation but also about empathy and good relations
and if misunderstandings occur, they can lead to moggy machinations.
The one to get, whether a novice or an authority,
is the longer, drawn-out miaow which means “Food” and “Make it snappy!”

Now, I won’t go on
‘cos I’ve already taken too long.
Needless to say, there are those of you with some kind of ‘cat karma’
and you’re used to being woken up with your cat in your face – checking out whether you’re still breathing or not – in a ‘whiskerama.’
Of course, you’ll know that no cat has the same miaow and that yours is unique.
Mine too, so you’ll forgive me if I say “Catch you later” cos it’s 7 o’clock, and I’m guessing he’s just said “Tuna fish time” in Cat speak.

Catcrobatics

In a field not far away and nearer than it’s far,
a team of cats are practicing in Circuslandia.
Props for paws are all set out for them to do their tricks,
Daring furry exploits in a moggy mayhem mix.

A giant plastic foot for them to wrap their claws around,
to then leap from, in unison, and twist back to the ground.
A balcony to jump upon, just millimetres thick.
To see them pad it, so high up, may leave u feeling sick!

No obstacle course of furniture will have them slipping up.
In and out of spring-hinged wardrobes just before they shut.
Spectacular sofa scratching synchronized, covers all thread bare.
Pegs and rubbers, coloured balls, juggled here and there.

Hide’n’seek from room to room in a game of ambush tag.
One minute in a cardboard box, the next in a shopping bag.
Mechanical hands and arms play-fight as, in formation, they attack
Landing in perfect time together, rolling over, charging back.

In a field not far away and nearer than it’s far
a team of cats are practicing in Circuslandia.
Coming soon to your living room, kitchen and much more!
The greatest show ever seen through the cat-flap by your door!

Park Cat

lies on the walkway,
in the sun.
Stretches out on a summers day,
nothing to do or done.

Green eyes stare ahead,
green as the leaves.
Stomach wages total war to be fed
but this sleepy look says all ok as a heat wave heaves.

Park cat doesn’t pose for any photo.

Photographers have to catch that pose.
Birds take a little mid-afternoon bath.
Park cat has them under its nose.

My Cat’s Names

My cat has 6 names.
Initially, having got the first, it became a playful grandiose need for show
after some of my favourites from my hall of fame;
6 names but I could have added more, even so.

Since the early 80s,
Telemachus had always been my choice for any fictitious future cat,
hit upon while studying Joyce’s Ulysses
but now I wondered whether it might get shortened to Tel and I didn’t like that.

That said, it had to be in,
so it was, among the six; Moony Gainsbourg Taylor Telemachus Peter George.
Moony as a tribute to Keith Moon (and Audrey’s ‘Moon River’), his name in short, shortened.
Gainsbourg for Serge, Peter for Sellers and Cook, George for Best and the Beatles’ dark horse.

And Taylor? Tribute to Liz!
Had to get her in there somewhere even if my cat is a male!
So, a bit of everything, but mostly show biz;
And, indeed, my now almost 8-month-old grey-furred star is a class act from whiskers to tail!

Posting a Few Felines

Paws and claws paw and claw
the world wildcat web across continents
with felis silvestris likes and growls
in instinctive correspondence;

Lybica posts a picture of captured prey.
Caucasica boasts of having already killed that day.
Jordansi is going through a dry spell
and Mellandi ends speculation with a sniff and a smell.

Tristrami steps gingerly over difficult terrain
and then wants to video it (doing it all over again).
Chutuchta has just given birth and licks her young
sharing the experience with everyone.

Nesterovi has fallen asleep, though still well aware
(with ears tuned in) of what’s going on out there.
Cafra risks her one life online
while Caudata comments that cats are meant to have nine.

Gordoni and Ornate spit hate
while Reyi and Rubida search for a mate.
Cretensis marks out territory, and naps it
while Iraki is jealous of such luxury, and wants to snap it.

As Ugandai nurses wounds and messages for aid
Griselda is on the prowl as daylight fades.
Foxi and Silvestris have befriended each other
but only because they’re too far apart to be a bother.

Now, this virtual world may seem rather unreal.
And indeed it is, but no big deal.
Their trivial pursuit is keeping alive;
Like and share if you’d like the animal kingdom to survive.

How I Stopped

I ate my cat’s food.
I was rude.
I lied and I trued.
I ignored and I clued.

I swore on every heart still beating.
I didn’t eat meat in case it was bleating.
I shook out 50 pence for the heating.
I went to every meeting.

I got the bends.
I got hooked on whatever tends.
I got real when real pretends.
I wanted to turn right at dead ends.

I said it.
I did my bit.
I had my greatest hit.
I stopped, but can I quit?

MOONY’S 4TH BIRTHDAY

I’d have him have a very special day.
I’d have him have a cat-biscuit, tuna-fish buffet
with some of his mates round.
Dodging cars, I’d have him wandering around town.

I’d have him get to the park
Chasing a bird for a lark.
I’d have him have a little romance
and catnapping having had his chance.

I’d have him stay out all night, and go where he will.
Of course, I’d have to have him bring back a trophy after a kill.
I’d have ‘Moony Lived 9 Lives Here’ on a plaque.
I’d have him always come back.

But all of this has not been his fate
And for one thing in particular it’s a snip bit too late!
Anyway, he’s 32 now (in our years)
And he’s had a quiet spent-in ok birthday. Or so it appears.

Moon behind clouds

Thunder lightning rain.
There’s no-one sane enough to say you’re sane.