|
Home I Photos I Writings I The
Book I Nubbin Wisdom I Cats
in the News I Links I Contact |
2005
Because this is a burgeoning
site, I'm just throwing something up here...much like a web
hairball. Yeeeew, watch where you surf! Basically, this site
will consist of my observations of cat behaviour, my musings,
my photos, my writings...yeah, it's all about me...but wait,
no, it's all about them! Anyone that has a cat (a misconception-they
have you, don't they?) knows that even the most common of
kitties is not common at all. They each have their own personality
that shines through and captivates us. We are truly humbled
by their very existence aren't we?
I was just thinking tonight, when I picked up my 20 year
old senior, Sabbath (named after the band Black Sabbath)
how much he smelled like this navy blue sweater I had as
a child that I hated. It was a nylon polyester blend and
damn, it just stunk. I refused to wear it. But ya know, holding
Sack (that's his nickname along with Old Buddy and Old Man-we'll
get to that later) I was reminded of that scent and funny
thing......it wasn't so bad anymore.
My point? Cats have a way to temper us. Sure, they also
have a way to raise our temper, but when all is said and
done, in many ways, they exemplify what we strive for as
mere humans. |
"It
is said that our domestic felines have genetic ties to
the “big cats”, lions, tigers and such. Cohabiting
with felis domesticus, I would have to agree, strictly
on a behavioral basis of course. I am no scientist, merely
a diligent observer.
Everyday, I witness my cats “marking their territory” by scratching,
rubbing and spraying (much to my chagrin when it is within the confines of my
home which has been dubbed “the pee-pee-soaked-heck-hole”). Decidedly,
I too am considered “territory”, as I have not escaped ANY of the
three aforementioned marking rituals.
My feline friends have also not renounced their natural, predatory instincts,
be it an ant, bird or particle of dust blowing across the floor. On behalf of
the living, breathing victims, I intercede when I am able. When I am unable to,
I am forced to remind myself of their instinctual and genetic programming to
hunt and kill.
Perhaps that is the mystery that binds us to these creatures as they lie upon
our laps…contented, purring and elegant yet not restricted, ruled or confined
and in a sense, never to be fully tamed…the embodiment of our basic, humanly
desires." |
|
Circe
|
Leaving home is coming home and
It’s all the same movement of
Pulling in and pulling out
A left turn
A right turn
A wrong turn
That is a dead end
A heartache of my own making
Put away your eye pencil
You don’t need it when you sleep
And the chatter in my head
Is the chatter I heard everyday
That was so insignificant
But today it means everything
On my dead end street
*When the rain stops
Your head will be in the east
When the night falls
Your feet will be west bound
I’m holding my breath
Afraid to look at what I’ve done
Bathing in water isn’t nearly as satisfying
As bathing in guilt but
Neither can cleanse the soul
Like a dependable friend
Offering comfort
An old friend
A bold friend
A comfortable crutch
To lean on, a rotting oak tree
*
And the day has come that
She can’t turn the men to swine
Her magic suffocated
A day of remorse
For the light and dark
And all that is true
Drunken sailor understand
That she took you, rewarded you
But now she is dead
Her beautiful power swirls and drains
You’re on your own
Wading through paths of mud
Trying to find your way
Alone in your sea of voices
* |
Perhaps I am alone in this…but one of the things I truly
adore about cats is the fur on the back of their heads. I also
love their “toe fur”. I don’t know what it
is about it, but it really does it for me.
|
THE HUNT
|
Curious and cautious
Stalking the stalker
Into the light
Beyond the dark
We are the few
The chosen who
Grace your life
And tear our your heart |
| Simon was a pound kitty. There was nothing notably
exceptional about him but he was a sweetie. The thing I remember
most about Simon is when he was neutered as a young'un, he came
home and bounced off the walls as if nothing had happened. He had
no clue his "manhood"
had been taken from him. In his old age, he enjoyed sleeping in the
sun amongst the roses against the house. |
|
|
Lillith...lovely tabby found in an alley. She has the most
striking of aquamarine eyes....but she's crabby as hell. Although
she's lived here for years, this little Paris Hilton will NOT adjust
to the simple life. But, as of late, I have noticed she's beginning
to allow others to breathe, walk and exist within the same county,
which is a marked change from when I brought her home and she went
ballistic...on my face. Ah yeah, memories...ya just can't replace
em...much like eyeballs. |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
