The Chase Is Great
Shark is an outdoor cat, haughty, wears a killer crown.
He has a kill room around the corner, under a bunch of bushes.
In the summer a variety of carcasses are unbearably smelly.
I have to dispose of them, for my dad was a fur dealer,
and “you are used to pelts”.
Sorry, I never get used to them….
I am deathly allergic to all cats; Shark is no exception.
He deserves a much better home, but he has claws and no one wants him.
So he hangs out here, but this is his eleventh year and he is older.
I figure he will get pneumonia and die in the Kansas winter,
so when it is below freezing, I put him into my art studio/office.
The chase is great.
Last night I chased him down three times.
Once he hit me over the head with a magazine.
Then he bit me.
Then he scratched me with both hind feet.
I finally let him go.
Freeze to death, I told him. I wish you well.
I stayed up late, watching a movie.
Shark appeared on the window ledge at 10:30 p.m.
Meowing and moaning an apology.
I got his food together, and put on some warmer clothes.
Opened the door to pick him up, and he meowed a fierce cry.
Spit in my face and took off.
I was debating about staying up until midnight.
The dog rolled her eyes.
Knowing I would probably do it.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2020
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