There are mornings
when I wish
I could be the cat,
sit in the corner,
close my eyes and
watch the world
suddenly disappear.
The cat breaks
my reverie, purring
there is room for one
and this role
is all mine.
First appeared in The Flying Dodo, Issue 4, January 2023
https://fantasyfantasywave.wixsite.com/my-site/louis-faber-certain-mornings
The cat is sleeping on the lanai, on the plant table among the bromeliads. The cat spends hours sleeping on the lanai when she isn’t walking on tables. There are tables on the lanai she walks on regularly. Walking on tables is forbidden we repeatedly tell her and we know she understands, but the cat reminds us that forbidden in a transitory term when you are a cat. Cats, she says, must go where they want, consequences be damned. And, she adds, I know you will always forgive me.
I have concluded that God created the cat
in a moment of exhaustion or of extreme pique.
How else to explain such a soft fur covered creature
capable at once of a gentle caress and a claw
lunging out at a hand or face deemed too close.
Why else this projectile constantly launched
only at those places it was not to be,
fine wood tables etched with reminders
of its sudden presence and rapid departure.
What else to explain this shedding ball
of multihued fur that always curls in sleep
in the one place you wish to sit
and even when it cedes a seat to you, smirks
in the realization you will soon
an unexpectedly be half covered in fur.
Why this package of fluff and terror crawls
beneath your blanket as you verge on sleep
curls tightly against you and begins its gentle
rhythmic purring that draws you deeply
into a world of fur filled dreams.
First Published in ZOOANTHOLOGY, Sweetycat Press, August 2022
The utter and complete absurdity
of living in Florida can
be ever so easily illustrated.
Last evening the neighbor’s
dog decided it needed
to express itself and did so
in clear and loud terms.
The limpkins and gallinules
in the wetland behind
both our homes shouted back
and based on my admittedly
limited vocabulary of bird
there were several four
letter words and at least one
upraised middle claw,
for that language is universal.
And all of this was once
Native American land and I
am certain they would not be
pleased at what we have created
and the birds would agree.
They strut across our lawn oblivious to our stares. The cat sits watching these large objects, birds perhaps she thinks, but nothing like those she once hunted for food when she was homeless and pregnant. She is content to sit and watch them, speaks a momentary hello, and realizing that they do not speak cat, settles down for her pre-dinner nap.
In my next life I think
I want to come back
as a cat, and not just any
cat, but a domestic
shorthaired spotted tabby.
I have it on good authority
that there is nothing finer
in the animal world
than being a domestic
shorthaired spotted tabby.
There will be much work
involved in the early days,
right after adoption, for
people tend very much
to be slow learners.
But with enough time,
the occasional well placed
claw, and earned affection
you can bend them
finally to your will.
At least that is what
my cat tells me in
moments of abject honesty.
She carefully noted all of the comings and goings. She dares not miss a thing, that would be unthinkable. She takes mental notes, has no need for recording devices. She will tell you when something is out of the ordinary. She will demand you act when that happens. She will describe to you how that appeared to happen and what she thinks caused it. She is ever vigilant. She has no choice, after all she is a house cat.
I grant you cats can be peculiar
but they have one significant
advantage over all other pets,
except maybe hamsters
and gerbils, for when you
need someone to talk to,
to unload your problems on,
to try and wrestle with
a thorny issue of public policy
or geopolitical intrigue
and that night has swallowed
everyone you know, anyone
you might dare disturb
in the hours after midnight,
you may rest assured that
a dog would be sleeping
somewhere and will not be
roused for heaven and earth,
but a cat will be wide awake,
willing to let you go on and on
in exchange for a bit of play,
but there is the risk that she
or he will disagree with you
using a claw for emphasis.
Every morning we are able, we go out
on the lanai and have our fruit bowls
then our cappuccinos with toast
from her homemade sourdough
whole wheat bread, and watch
countless birds fly out
of the wetland that abuts our yard.
The cat is always awaiting
our arrival, usually sleeping
on one of our oak rockers.
She will look up at us, yawn
and when we nod, amble over
to her “cat condo” where she knows
her morning treats will appear.
She will announce her thanks
and slide back to the rocker
for her morning nap, knowing
she can watch the birds
arrive later when she
is far more rested for she
reminds us that cats are nocturnal.
The cat has progressed to the point where she runs the household. In fairness she does a fine job of it, but we believe that is because she has hired superb help. She knows what needs to be done, and when it needs to be done. She willingly reminds us of what we need to do for ourselves, as well as for her. And she has granted us one room to ourselves, and is willing to share the rest of her house. And for that, of course, we are grateful, just as she demands.
an old writer and his words 