Written for Esther’s Laughing Along
With A Limerick #255. The prompt
word is ‘dust’. This is my limerick.
Tag: Cats
Feed The Kitty
Written for Esther’s Laughing Along With A
Limerick #245. Using the prompt word
‘just’, this is my limerick.
Catologically Speaking
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #402
using the word “spook” and Sue & Gerry’s Weekly
Prompts Weekend Challenge with the required word
“Pookie”. In exactly 32 words, this is my story.
Whisker Pie: A Dectina Refrain
Melissa at dVerse poets has asked us to write a poem for the prompt “If You Don’t Like Cats, I’m Sorry”, based on one of Louis Wain’s drawings. I have written a Dectina Refrain for “Cat’s Nightmare”. Oh, but there’s a catch: we can’t use the word “cat” in our poems!
A Dectina Refrain is written as follows: 1st line is 1 syllable, 2nd line is 2 syllables, 3rd line is 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone sentence.
WHO
do you
think you are,
trying to hide
from the likes of us?
We have our eyes on you
watching every move you make;
foolish kitties, there’s no escape.
A tasty whisker pie we will bake!
Who do you think you are, trying to hide?
NAR©2024
This is Blood, Sweat and Tears with “The Owl And The Pussycat” (Instrumental Interlude – Outtake 1)
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
CATASTROPHE
She’s not a bad girl, not really.
True, she’s defiant. Unruly.
Aren’t they all at that age?
Pushing the corners of
their little envelopes simply because
girls just want to have fun.
No, she’s not a bad girl.
Mischievous, naughty, uncontrollable.
But look at that adorable face.
How can anyone stay mad?
She’s not a bad girl.
Unrepentant and willful
but for heaven’s sake;
It was only a plant!
NAR © 2023
THE DOWER BOX
“Course of action for today – tackle the basement!” announced my husband Ned. “Care to join me, Jan?”
“Why not? I’ve got writer’s block anyway” I replied glumly.
“After you, madame” said Ned, bowing extravagantly.
Seven months ago we moved into our little beach house. It’s in good condition and Ned’s handy so employing a repairman wasn’t necessary. The former owners left a few things behind; it would be nice to find a treasure or two. After sifting through mostly junk, we decided on a floor lamp, a wine rack and a hammock.
“Jan, look at this old dower box. Want to store your blankets in it? If not, I can use it for something.”
“I don’t think so, hon. Looks kinda beat up to me. It’s all yours. What are your plans?”
“Ah … you’ll see” Ned answered inscrutably.
“Ok, mystery man. I’m heading back up. Have fun!”
Still putting off writing, I tossed the ingredients for beef stew into the slow cooker for dinner this chilly December night. Glancing out the kitchen window I caught a glimpse of Mr. Sandman, the stray cat who hangs out in the beachgrass surrounding our house. After making a pot of tea I set off to the sunroom, my blank laptop mocking me.
By the sounds of sawing, drilling and hammering coming from the basement, Ned was having a grand time working on that beat up dower box. A couple of hours later he wandered up from his workshop, a sprinkling of sawdust icing his hair. Ned grinned and twitched his nose, appreciatively sniffing the aroma enveloping the kitchen.
“Mmm – beef stew! How’s the writing, hon.”
“Don’t ask. Hey, guess who I saw today. Mr. Sandman.”
“You don’t say” Ned replied. “I was thinking about him just the other day.”
I ladled the stew into bowls while my husband sliced the freshly baked bread and poured glasses of pinot noir. “So, when can I see what you’ve been working on?” I inquired.
“Right after dinner” Ned replied. “I think it’s damn good!”
We finished up and Ned anxiously led me downstairs. “Well, there it is. What do you think?”
I was speechless; there in the window was a home for Mr. Sandman!
Ned had opened the old hopper window at the top of the basement wall and, using a carabiner, secured the heavy window pane to a beam in the ceiling. He carefully inserted the dower box into the window opening; it was a perfect fit! Ned had sawed a doorway facing outside; a piece of an old rubber car mat with vertical cuts served as the front door curtain. A carpet remnant covered the wood floor of the box and a soft baby blanket provided a cozy nook in the corner. Ned had removed the back of the dower box and reattached it with hinges on one side and a latch on the other, giving us easy access to the box. A peephole drilled into the back panel allowed us to peek inside to make sure all was well. Ned had anchored the box to the wall with several short, sturdy bungee ties. There was even a small safety heater attached to the ‘ceiling’ of the box. He had thought of everything!
Giving me a wink, Ned opened the latch on the back panel, slid in a small plate of cat food and secured the latch.
“Oh, my soulful, sensitive man!” I exclaimed, hugging my husband tightly.
It snowed lightly that night and there were paw prints leading to the dower box. Ned and I exchanged looks and raced downstairs as quietly as possible. We tiptoed to the box and peeked through the peephole. A sleepy and very contented Mr. Sandman had found his way home.
NAR © 2019
Reposted for One-Word Challenge#FOWC, workshop
THREE OF A KIND
Head cocked to the right, Jake waited impatiently as I read the article he had slipped in front of me. Having been born with microtia, Jake’s right ear was very small and malformed with significantly decreased hearing…..just like his idol Paul Stanley from KISS….so tilting his head to one side for better hearing was second nature.
“Mom, can we go….PLEASE?” he pleaded. “The article says 50 dogs and cats will be euthanized next week unless they’re adopted. Please, Mom! I’ve wanted a dog forever! If I can get a dog for Christmas, I’ll never ask you for another thing for the rest of my life!!”
I slid my glasses down my nose and raised my eyebrows questioningly. “That’s a really long time, Jake! I’ll tell you what. Today’s Wednesday. If you finish that book report and clean your room by Saturday, then we have a deal.”
“Really?? I swear I will, Mom!” Jake threw his arms around my neck. “I can’t wait until Saturday!” I couldn’t help laughing at his unbridled excitement.
Saturday finally arrived and Jake was true to his word. His report was done and his room was clean. He even found an old frame in the basement for his favorite KISS poster.
So I was true to MY word, too. We got to the shelter early and looked around, stopping at all the cages. After a while, I lost sight of Jake. I called out to him and got an “Over here, Mom!” in response. I finally spotted him in the corner, bending down and staring into a cage. There weren’t any other people hanging around that section and I wondered what type of dog caught Jake’s eye. I was surprised to see it wasn’t a dog but two tiny grey kittens.
“Hey, buddy, what’s up? I thought you wanted to get a dog. Did you change your mind?”
Jake looked up at me, his big brown eyes brimming with tears. “Mom,” he whispered. “Come look. These are special cats!” Bending down to take a look, I thought “what could be so special about a cat?” My question was answered when I looked in the cage; I gasped slightly at what I saw.
“Ah, I see an introduction is necessary” said one of the shelter volunteers. ”These are our Scottish Folds. No one wants these little guys because of their folded ears. Everyone thinks there’s something wrong with them but that’s just the way God made them.”
“Mom, they’re just like me! I love them. Can we take them home, please?”
“We sure can, buddy” I managed to choke out. “What are you going to name them?”
“That’s easy.” Jake smiled up at me. “Paul and Stanley.”
NAR © 2017
The Elephant's Trunk 