Live trees with their fragrant cachet
aren’t meant for a feline sashay,
but when Willis the dog
gets the cat all agog
the tree can’t get out of the way.
Thanks to photographer Eugenia Roche.
Live trees with their fragrant cachet
aren’t meant for a feline sashay,
but when Willis the dog
gets the cat all agog
the tree can’t get out of the way.
Thanks to photographer Eugenia Roche.
They call him Fat Freddie
I think it’s a shame
a little more dignity
should attach to a name.
But in model comportment
he rises above
curled into the naps
he gets plenty of.
Tucked into himself
his postures astound —
would I sleep better
if I made myself round?
When the world’s an endless chase
with humans everywhere
it’s good to have a place
to go for head repair.
This message brought to you by Hannah,
my former gorgeous glossy if somewhat haughty neighbor.
say I should have a pet.
Little do they know
I have the best one yet.
Meet my pet geranium:
content in sunny latitude
it contemplates the weather
in vaguely feline attitude.
It may not twitch a tail
nuzzle, wag, or purr,
but I don’t have to walk it
or vacuum up its fur.
My friends are quite like-minded
and, taller than they by half,
is their twining placid rosy
pet bougainvillea giraffe.
With thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.