Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Posts tagged ‘cat’

Five Vignettes

These were written as an assignment for a poetry class. Assignment: Write a few short poems in the same “form.” You can pick an object, and write about what the object thinks of itself. (Regarding form, I’m not sure what “form” these are, or even if they’re in the same “form.”) The second vignette is not really about an object.

THE CLOCK
I am the clock
That sits and ticks
And gives you fits
When buzzing, ringing,
The new day bringing.

THE POETRY TEACHER
He said to write a poem.
I thought I’d like to show ‘im.
It’s just my pride
That makes me want to hide.

THE CAT
As I sit on the sill
It’s really a thrill
To watch the birds —
Or is it absurd?

THE CHAIR
Four legs I have, and on a plateau
Sit some of the people whom I know —
Or don’t —
But perhaps it’s kind
To let a person sit a while.

THE TREE
I stand so still
Except in wind;
The birds make me their home.
And rabbits dwell
‘Neath branches low
My arms protect them well.


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Poems

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Veterinary Nurses

This past week my husband and I have been veterinary nurses for our older (about 13 years old) cat Josie. The vets diagnosed her with rhinitis, sinusitis, and gastritis. Yikes! I can’t figure our how she got the infections; she’s an indoor cat living with one other indoor car and my husband and me.

The whole week has been a great exercise in patience: giving the cat pills (4 to 5 a day), feeding her liquified cat food through a syringe (3 to 5 times a day), and cleaning up the ugly messes she makes at her water bowl. She was drooling a lot and her eyes and nose were a mess.

My husband is an angel in the patience department. He has gotten several scratches. I was ready to give up half way through the week, and he said, “Why are you so negative?”

One can debate about how much time and money to spend on a pet, but as long as there’s reasonable hope of recovery, which the vet thinks there is, we can keep going, unless it interferes with higher concerns (grandkids, etc.). Of course, we are retired so we have the time, but even before this, I don’t know if I’ve ever had so many physical tasks (the vegetable garden, for one, and except maybe when the kids were young) in my life. I suppose that the one time we had a renter living with us was also a lot of work.

God does care about animals. Were not many of them saved on Noah’s ark? But humans have priority.

“For every animal of the forest is Mine, The cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird of the mountains, And everything that moves in the field is Mine. (Psalm 50:10-12)

“Should I not also have compassion on Nineveh, the great city in which there are more than 120,000 people, who do not know the difference between their right hand and their left, as well as many animals?” (Jonah 4:11)

“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29-31)

‘Then he said to them, “If one of you has a child or an ox that has fallen into a well, will you not immediately pull it out on a sabbath day?”’ (Luke 14:5)

About ten days after the first symptoms, Josie is starting to eat on her own again. The extra care is paying off! We’ll keep it up.

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Personal story

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The Cat

Like little princess
She sits on paws;
With innocent looks
And ferocious jaws.

With purr so loud
And conspicuous meow,
She says to me,
“Please take me out.”

With sharpest talons
She persuades,
As if to tell us,
“Please cut my nails.”

With little jumps,
She turns around;
She says, “Let’s be
For bedroom bound.”

When younger,
You could throw a toy,
And she would fetch
With happy joy.

And on my lap
She likes to sit,
Especially when
At screen I sit.

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Poems

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The Village Kitty

[With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
whose poem, “The Village Blacksmith,” was partial inspiration for this.]

Under a spreading Christmas tree
The village kitty lies;
The kitty, mighty cat is he,
With large and glaring eyes;
The talons of his furry paws
Are sharp as kitchen knives.

His hair is thick, and orange, and long;
His face is rather tan.
His tongue is wet; he won’t forget
To lick his owner’s hand.
And also licks the same one’s face,
For to lick he thinks is grand.

Week in, week out, from morn ’til night,
You can hear his vig’rous purr;
Can hear his little kitty bell
Whenever he does stir.
He slinks around his owner’s house
And loves his owner well.

And children coming home from school
Look in at open door;
They love to see his glaring eyes
And hear his mighty purr,
And watch as he does stretch and turn
And lick his lengthy fur.

He won’t go Sunday to the church,
For it is not too near;
He’ll miss the preaching, and the choir —
His hissing could cause fear.
But singing in the village choir
His owners do with cheer.

They sound to him like chorus strange,
Yowling but not feline.
He’d like to throw a clod of dirt
Into their open eyes;
But with his furry paw he wipes
A speck out of his eyes.

Rolling — stretching — yawning,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees the food put out,
Each evening sees it go;
Something eaten, something caught,
He’s earned his night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy cat,
For lessons thou has taught!
If I could sit around all day,
I hope I’d not be caught!
I better not so lazy be
Or poor will be my lot.

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Humor, Poems

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