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SATURDAY, EARLY

This morning,

early,

before the traffic…

before even the neighborhood dogs were out snuffling in their yards,

I hit the open space…

all the birds were in diversionary action mode…

robins, running ahead of me, away from their nests…

red finches flitting from tall grass to tall grass…

no coyotes, though, too late in the morning for them, I imagine. The sun had been up at least half an hour.

The grass in the gulch is not yet high enough to mow;

the willows promise to be full and greedy all summer long…

cattails just greening up…

and Emil Catt has begun a new habit of slurping his morning drink of water from the day lilies, coming back into the house soaking wet, and leaving paw prints on the new wood floor in the kitchen…

and now it’s 8:15

so the day’s work must begin

the luxury of a slow morning

packed up until tomorrow…

6/3/17

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CATT ON STOOL

He actually thinks
I placed this stool
in front of my computer
so he can jump up
and sit on it looking at me…
He keeps looking at me…
 
What?!
What do you want?!
No!
No treats for you
until you get off my stool!

CATT ON THE MAT

it must feel so good

to dig your claws into the stiff coir

attempting to shred it

with all your might

as you pull it across the porch…

hey, wait!  where’ya goin’?

put that back where it goes, Mister!

CATT IN SPRINKLER

Emil Catt has no clue

He is not supposed to like the water

Let alone sit like a statue

In the middle of the sprinkler

Soaking it all in.

don’t even THINK about coming in until you are dry, Mister

EMIL CATT’S BOUNTY aka They Now Have Names

He brought another mouse (Fat)
into the house
and like the other (Speedy)
a few days back
it ran straight to the bookshelf
to hide
except this one was fatter
so it could not squeeze
between the books
and it could not run
very fast
so I grabbed a plastic bucket
turned upside down to capture it
then slid the bucket to the door
lifted it
but Fat would not go out
so I tricked it back into the bucket
then flung it
out
where it stayed
in the grass
while Emil yowled

rJo Herman 10/3/15

EMIL CATT IN PINK

It is truly not to punish him.
He simply lost his collar.
The black one with fake diamonds
that gave him an air of elegance
whilst chomping on pitiful mice.
He lost it, or, more likely,
worried it with his back claws
until it came unhooked
and fell into someone’s garden,
most likely Glennie and Kent’s.
He could not wander collarless,
appearing to be neglected;
an unknown vagrant in this neighborhood he loves.
I found some bright pink ribbon,
tied a bright pink bow round his fine grey neck
and now he is most assuredly
a marked, but distinguished kitty,
visible from houses down.
and tho’ he has no bell, you can absolutley tell,
it is Emil Albert Leroy Anderson Catt wending his way.
rJo Herman 9/27/15

OKAY! I’M UP!

4:30 AM
Emil Catt, howls, yowls, desperate.
AUGH, Catt!  Shut Up!
I refuse to get up,
pull up the covers,
bury my ears in the pillows.
He yowls louder, non-stop.

EMIL! QUIET!
IT’S TOO EARLY!

5:20 AM
I throw back the sheets, grump up.
EMIL!
Not under any bed,
EMIL!
Not in the front closet,
Not on the porch,
Not somehow in the fridge,
Not stuck in the basement,
NO where, yet his howling persists.

GAWD! WHERE ARE YOU?
To hell with it.
I brush my teeth,
put on my coffee,
gather clothes from the end of the bed to toss into
THE LINEN CLOSET!
OF COURSE!
Shut in the linen closet!
Snooped in the hamper.
fell asleep…auuughhh!

rJo Herman 4/26/15