You have to admire someone who dares to rhyme predictable with despicable. And wetness with tetanus.
In a poem about rain.
11 years old, that one.
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The ass-cork cat has turned into the Cat Who Pees Anywhere.
Who has turned into the Cat Who Now Lives in the Garage.
Yes, I realize I’m turning a blind eye to the urinary suffering of a poor wee animal, but there’s a huge chasm between urinary suffering and my rented carpet, and I am determined that it remain just that, a chasm. The damage Eric inflicts is quite enough.
Feel free to send healing thoughts to my kitty’s bladder, if you will.
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After having been mentioned in The Times, being interviewed by the Chicago Tribune for an upcoming story on all the toy recalls seemed kind of blase but the story should run over the weekend and I’ll post a link when I get it.
Could definitely get used to this being famous stuff. Aren’t you glad you know me now, before I get a big head and all?
[tags]poetry, writing, rhyming, cats, urinary infections, sigh[/tags]
October 10th, 2007 at 11:56 pm
I will say that I have a lot of experience with the stuff that comes out of BOTH ends of cats. It seems like they routinely send their supper back out the way it came in – usually in the middle of the hallway (never off to the side, mind you).
And….I will admit that I once had one put to sleep because she simply would not stop peeing on the carpet. I excused myself with the convenient rationalization that she was a shelter cat and if I hadn’t given her a chance, she probably would have met the same fate at the shelter.
Famous, well yeah! You go girl! Though some of us vaguely remember you as being famous several times before – just can’t quite remember when or where…..
RV
October 11th, 2007 at 1:03 am
Weren’t you interviewed by someone even bigger a while back?
October 11th, 2007 at 8:24 am
Ron, so far I haven’t had that particular delight with these cats, but I for years I could awaken from a dead sleep just in time to shove the about-to-hurl cat off my bed, having trained myself to respond to that certain sound cats make just before.
Whit. Well, obviously, THAT interview was the beginning of this dizzying rise to fame. And had the most insightful questions, too, though I could hardly answer them, dazzled as I was by the interviewer’s brilliance.
October 11th, 2007 at 9:40 pm
Ugh, let’s not talk about cats. Let me just make the tired joke one last time: I told my mom about how awful the cat has been lately, and said that there’s no way he could get any worse, and my mom said he could start lighting fires. Hahhahhhaha. It was hilarious the first two times.