Day One Hundred and Sixty Seven: Of Cats and Men

It’s a combination post today. Aren’t you lucky?

Firstly, regular readers (all ten of you) probably remember the poem I wrote about a dog a few days ago. Well, it actually started off as a poem about a cat which was, at the time, curled up asleep next to me. You can file this one under “curio”, and perhaps you can see why it didn’t quite make the cut.

A ginger whirl
clinging on for dear life,
claws and all,
to the tom shaped
pillow, lazily.
Paws out,
eyes closed,
twitching with dreams
of being chased.
The occasional gasp
interrupts the slow
rise and fall of the chest
as you rub
the whiskers on your nose.

Secondly – I actually dislike cats. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; they are conduits of pure evil. So nothing is funnier to me than a stupid cat getting itself stuck in a hamster ball.

Justice!

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