Cat Haiku

During these ungodly hot days, I like to lie under the People's bed and entertain myself by panting myself cool or reading some Japanese poetry. Cat Haiku by Deborah Coates contains several rhymes that define my feline essence with concise perfection.

Take this one, for example:

You get a massage,
I roll in the dirt. Both are
Relaxing, aren’t they?


Or this one:

You must love this thing
Called "work" since you go there so
Much. I'd rather nap.



Do any fellow blogging felines have any cool cat haiku to share?

Hmmm....

The people are doing something in the garden, and I know not what. They went out while I was under the bed this afternoon, and when they came back they had bags of gravel and other things.

They put the gravel bags on the ground -- barely missing the pieces of slowworm that I'd left to cure in the sun, I might add. They would have been in so much trouble if they'd've squished that, I can tell you.

Then they started moving plants and flowers around. This kind of unnerves me for two reasons:

1. I had become quite accustomed to where things were, and I thought it was all just right the way it was;

2. It seems I must have missed the meeting when all of this was discussed. When I say I "missed the meeting", of course what I really mean is that they held said meeting without me, and that is not something that sits well with a cat.

To make matters worse, on close inspection of the gravel I have to ask myself whether anyone gave any thought to the size of the gravel versus the size of the gaps between the pads of my feet. I'll wager they didn't...

Is it me...

or is it
TOO
DAMN
HOT
TO
BLOG?

Must sleep under bed, where it is cool...

I had a dream

I am a fearsome leopard and I fly through the air, leaping majestically from lush, luxuriant trees on to the unsuspecting prey below.

If the gods of anatomy could just see me mid-flight, they would congratulate themselves on the perfect, scythe-like killing machine I have become.

I am perfection, elongated in an exquisitely sweet moment of hunting prowess. I am a feline god.

Then Man comes along: "Psst, Red, come and see Cat!"
His voice is utterly disagreeable to me at this moment. I ignore him.

I close my eyes a bit harder, fall back to sleep, fall back to sleep... where was I? Yes, the jungle. I am about to hunt down a pesky young gazelle. I project my entire body forward, soaring through the...

FLASH!

What on earth was that? Are they exploiting my sleepiest, most vulnerable dreamlike state to take pictures of me?! In my bedroom? Where I come to play with my toys? Is there no respect for feline authority here?

Right, let me set my body clock... 3.30am... yeah, that should do it. See you in the morning, amigos.

I’ll sleep it off...

I'm feeling a bit under the weather. It's been bloody hot round here lately, and while Man and Woman seem perfectly happy wandering around in just their underwear, they seem completely oblivious to the fact that I'm sitting here in a freakin' fur coat. Like, hello! You think you've got it bad?!

Anyway, to add salt to the wound, I've lost my voice. When I try to miaow all that comes out is a pitiful squeak. Its probably a bit of that bird from the other morning stuck in my craw. Maybe a claw in my craw. Or some of that spiky grass that I love so much. Mmmm... spiky grass.

And I've done a big throw-up today.

Oh well, I'm gonna go and curl up in Woman's wardrobe and sleep it off. I'm sure everything will look better in the morning. Thanks for listening.

Early morning hunting trip

The humans have been looking a little worse for wear in recent weeks -- all sunken cheeks, sticky-outy ribs, knobbly knees galore -- and there has been a lot of complaining about being hungry all the time, the fridge being constantly empty and whatnot.

I think they’re just a little tired of their old cooking repertoire and fancy a little variety in their diet, so I thought I’d help out. After all, as much as I don’t like to share my wealth, they have been good to me, feeding me top-of-the-range catfood and even treating me to a weekly portion of fish.

So this morning, bright and early, I thought I’d go hunting. These are the fruits of my labour.


I left it on the rug, just in front of the box the humans often sit in front of, where I knew they would see it. And then I went out again. I am not one to bask in the glory of my selfless actions, you see.

When I returned, it was gone. Woman was the first to thank me for my brave and arduous deed and she praised my hunting skills. I like praise. Man soon followed suit and scratched me on the chin, but with the respect one owes to their provider.

I purred with pride and retired to their room for a well-deserved nap. These hunting trips really take it out of me...