Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Look what I found about cats

 This poem by Robert Gray was about a real cat. I took note because a friend on the Airedale list would send cards that included a photo of Marbles the Cat (RB) looking at Jerry the Fish. Fortunately, Marbles didn't share Selima's miserable fate.

On The Death Of A Favourite Cat, Drowned In A Tub Of Gold Fishes

'Twas on a lofty vase's side,
Where China's gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purred applause.

Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first, and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,
She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat's averse to fish?

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between:
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.

Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to ev'ry wat'ry god
Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came, no nereid stirred;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.
A fav'rite has no friend!

From hence, ye beauties undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters, gold.

Now, a cat lover might see one thing. The Poetry Foundation sees another:

"Her plunge into the goldfish bowl is another vain dream of the desiring self. Selima wishes to possess what is taboo; it requires her engagement with a medium in which she cannot survive. Her fate is a variation on the fate of those who would appropriate that which is beyond their proper sphere."
But if you know cats, you know that they have nothing to do with moralizing.
(public domain photo)

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Emily is again inspired by the original Miss Dickinson

The counter--is what I cannot reach!
The tomato and the cheese-
Provided my mom leaves them out--
Smell heavenly--to Me!

The color of the cheddar round--
The food too far to grasp--
Behind the threatening Cookie Sheet--
There--Paradise--is found--

Those teasing smells--that make me drool--
I must grow tall to grasp--
And use my paws to bat them o'er--
And bite into them at last!

It's a good thing we don't believe people can really roll over in their graves or we'd be hearing a thing or two all the way from Amherst, MA. Emily Dickinson's birthday was Dec. 10, and Emily Dickins' birthday was Dec. 4.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Emily is One!

Today is Emily Dickins' first birthday. And what did I do to prepare her? Have Sheila the World-Famous Groomer strip out all the dead fur, leaving a nearly naked dog. No biggie; she just looks like somebody with a skin disease.

As a mature dog, she prefers heavy reading material: Wolf Hall is 532 pages. No wonder she actually prefers Kleenex tissues. A talented girl, she knows how to unmake a bed, shred cardboard, and chew the corners off pillows and woodwork.


Why doesn't he have to wear a silly jacket?

Read my face. Treats, now! I may be small, but I've got Big Attitude.