Cat

Mother cat TT coiled against the cruel world

Now, for a completely different subject, our cat TT with broken tail, coiled up here against the cruel world, as M says every time she assumes this tucked-up pose, paw across snout.

TT is our cat: M's and mine. Her daughter, Trixie, is more the kids' cat, especially C2's whose bunk bed she sleeps on every night, and sometimes all day, in winter.

Unique creatures, cats.

I suppose many poems have been written about cats, one more can't hurt:

Cat

Claws for the trunks
Tongue for the talk
Paws for the wash
Ears for the walk

Whiskers for the widths
Eyes for the night
Arms for the milking
Legs for the height

Speed for the victory
Sleep for the just
Meow for the service
Purr for the fuss

Fur for the soft
Laps for the soak
Tail for the balance
Stripes for the coat...


C2 has just delivered me this sandwich out of the toasted sandwich maker. It is the sandwich I made for his brother who turned out to have already left for uni. So C2 and I eat them here. Delicious, if I do say so myself.

Delicious, if I do say so myself