Denise’s Cat

Not Shroedinger’s cat

She was treated much better than that.

Denise saw a mouse in her home.

Did she run screaming?

Nope, went to a shelter and got a cat.

Now, she told that cat

No hugs, cuddles or petting

You have one job.

I expect you to do it well.

Catch those mice

Running around this house.

Cats will not obey

Any command that doesn’t suit them.

But that cat

Was one damn happy cat. 

She had a job she liked.

Faithfully moused,

playing with them to her heart’s content.

Denise didn’t mind as long as the mouse

Was dead in the end.

Even if, 

Occasionally,

she had to hit them dead with a hammer.

Denise moved from the city.

There were no more mice.

The cat was old,

Loved sleeping in the sun.

When death came

She wasn’t cuddled or fussed over or pet.

Without pity

She was taken for that shot of death.

As she drifted away

She dreamt of chasing mice

And her friend 

with a hammer.

July 2021

portrait of Neko 6/13/21

5:18 am Orlando

awake before sunrise

i step outside the sanctuary

of my parents’ house to

a sky full of dark with

pale moon and

two single stars unclouded

by wishes of opal clouds,

air cool through my hair.

[Just found this in the intricate maze of my computer. Must have been written several years ago, before my father died.]

Pet Store Dilemma (micro fiction)

Snap! The light went on. “What type of pet are you looking for?”

Fred grinned at Sam,“Cute.”

Sam squeezed Fred’s hand.“Ferocious enough to scare burglars away.”

“Griffin?,” suggested Sally. 

Sam watched it flutter. “Too many feathers.”

“How about a kraken?”

“Cleaning the tank would be onerous.”

Sally pointed, “This one doesn’t need much care, just a few crumbs. And it’s guaranteed to scare people.”

The brown creature waved its six legs and wiggled two antennae. Sam and Fred’s eyes met.

“Gorgeous,” Sam whispered in awe. 

Fred put his arm around Sam. “A cockroach is perfect.”

Backyard

The backyard

is filled with weeds.

The tree 

which we cut last year

has shooters exploding

into the sky.

“Rat city,” my husband

disgustedly exclaims.

He suggests Round-Up;

I am horrified.

“Okay, I’ll weed on Tuesday,”

No problem. 

Though I do like

that jungle look.