Muli Ben-Yehuda's journal

Dedicated to our lovely monst^H^H^H^H^Hcat, Maud.

The food in my bowl
Is old, and more to the point
Contains no tuna.
—-

So you want to play.
Will I claw at dancing string?
Your ankle’s closer.
—-

There’s no dignity
In being sick — which is why
I don’t tell you where.
—-

Seeking solitude
I am locked in the closet.
For once I need you.
—-

Tiny can, dumped in
Plastic bowl. Presentation,
One star; service: none.
—-

Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow’s taken.
—-

Your mouth is moving;
Up and down, emitting noise.
I’ve lost interest.
—-

The dog wags his tail,
Seeking approval. See mine?
Different message.
—-

My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?
—-

Most problems can be
Ignored. The more difficult
Ones can be slept through.
—-

My affection is conditional.
Don’t stand up,
It’s your lap I love.
—-

Cats can’t steal the breath
Of children. But if my tail’s
Pulled again, I’ll learn.
—-

I don’t mind being
Teased, any more than you mind
A skin graft or two.
—-

So you call this thing
Your “cat carrier.” I call
These my “blades of death.”
—-

Toy mice, dancing yarn
Meowing sounds. I’m convinced:
You’re an idiot.

(via Nev Dull nev (a) bostic (dot) com)