Haiku (#8)
Three more boxes packed
accumulation of lists
cooking for Moby.
Trader Joe's has voluntarily taken their beloved wet canned cat food off the shelves, as a precaution. Which is good, really, I suppose. But now I have to keep a hungry cat fed. Willingly, sure, but, I'm not the best cook. I will to the wings and giblets, add some of the kibble, wet it down, so that he gets his taurine.
I had a flash of inspiration, while cooking for Moby, as Aunt Alma did for her fat black poodle, Gigi. Gigi entered the family shortly after me, and was my most beloved companion, as I was hers. Aunt Alma always knew when my parents were about to stop by, because Gigi would not leave the front window. She knew when I was near. I would throw her ball for her again and again. I am told I brushed her teeth with my toothbrush when I was small. I abetted her in the theft of my steak, once. I looked at Moby, who was originally named Midnight, like the lovable and mellow black cat who tolerated rides on my shoulders when a cat was the only person I could have carried at all.
And I considered reincarnation.
Gigi, Midnight, Moby. Hopefully, the reward for many well lived lives.
accumulation of lists
cooking for Moby.
Trader Joe's has voluntarily taken their beloved wet canned cat food off the shelves, as a precaution. Which is good, really, I suppose. But now I have to keep a hungry cat fed. Willingly, sure, but, I'm not the best cook. I will to the wings and giblets, add some of the kibble, wet it down, so that he gets his taurine.
I had a flash of inspiration, while cooking for Moby, as Aunt Alma did for her fat black poodle, Gigi. Gigi entered the family shortly after me, and was my most beloved companion, as I was hers. Aunt Alma always knew when my parents were about to stop by, because Gigi would not leave the front window. She knew when I was near. I would throw her ball for her again and again. I am told I brushed her teeth with my toothbrush when I was small. I abetted her in the theft of my steak, once. I looked at Moby, who was originally named Midnight, like the lovable and mellow black cat who tolerated rides on my shoulders when a cat was the only person I could have carried at all.
And I considered reincarnation.
Gigi, Midnight, Moby. Hopefully, the reward for many well lived lives.
Labels: gigi, Pathetic poetry.
Posted by Zhoen on Wednesday, April 11, 2007
5 comments:
Funny, I was going to comment on your post about the crescent-shaped blanket you put down that I want to return in my next life as a cat. I don't know whether being allergic disqualifies me or instead adds some particular karma to the situation.
Why is the cat food off the shelf? What is taurine? Footnotes please for mystified UK reader.
Oh, Sorry, thought that news was all over. Contaminated cat and dog food, possibly from the wheat gluten. For certain dozen or s cats and a few dogs have died of kidney failure. Many more were made sick, perhaps hundreds more died.Melamine seems to be the problem.
Sheba is actually Sheba II. Sheba I was born in Saskatchewan in the 1970s, and died in the 1980s in Ontario.She was Joyce's dog and a sweetie.
When Little Black Furball came into our lives in here in Ontario in 1998, Joyce named her Sheba (II). To our astonishment, Sheba II grew up to look exactly like Sheba I. A few minor temperamental differences, but much the same woofer.
Reincarnation, indeed...
In a truly infinite Universe, I'd like to come back as myself, only happier.
Sounds like Gigi was a lovely person.
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