Woo hoo and you hoo, cat lovers, Merlin here. We’re taking most of the week off but will pop in here and there with a few goodies. After a freakishly warm weekend, all our snow melted. It was warm enough for the peeps to have coffee on the porch and the rest of us lollygagged in the garden dreaming of a white Christmas NOT.
I could not believe my eyes or nose. The frozen ground melted into a juicy, spring-like scent-fest. It inspired Layla to share some poetry from 18th C. haiku master Issa but hey, who are you calling old?
If you ever feel blue, he’s a joy. Reading how he triumphed over tragedy, a nasty step-mother and poverty will stop any pity party in its tracks.
And did you know the boozing, bad boy poet Bukowski loved cats? The old curmudgeon who knew the blues only too well, had a soft spot for cats. The holidays are upon us and if you need some courage or strength take heart. This photo quote has stanza from one of my favorite cat poems. Enjoy!
I know. I know.
they are limited, have different
needs and concerns.
but I watch and learn from them.
I like the little they know,
which is so
they complain but never
they walk with a surprising dignity.
they sleep with a direct simplicity that
humans just can’t
their eyes are more
beautiful than our eyes.
and they can sleep 20 hours
when I am feeling
all I have to do is
watch my cats
I study these
they are my