NaPoWriMo: 30 poems in 30 days (day 29)

Day 29 prompt: write a paean to your pet.


Hey, Cat

The mice at the vet’s
always made me feel guilty
when they’d ask me your name.
You were abandoned, neutered,
declawed, and basically fucked
by previous pin-headed possessors.
A bit of a nutless dick,
you bitched and whined
more than any dog, but you were
my cat. I was your human.
We understood each other and
those whiny-ass special
snowflake syndrome sufferers
of your name at the vet’s office
couldn’t believe we appreciated
each other on a level no man’s
best friend could understand.

Your name was Cat. You were The Cat!
Any Salem or Heathcliff worth knowing
would hang with the moniker, — Cat.
Clear, concise, and common.

You were my cat cuz
no one else wanted you. I did.
And you me. (Sort of.)
Rest in peace, Cat.


Look up, down, and both ways for cats and dogs.
Find and mind the gaps in every relationship.

Poetry: Dog Poop

From my screened in back porch
I get to see the sun rise,
it’s better in fall and winter.

The neighbor’s yard is being watered
because it’s Tuesday and grass
will die in the heat, or the shade.

And I see people pass on the
sidewalk, across the field which needs
neither water nor mowed,

but it is mowed twice each year
and then persistently grows back
waist high and only
Mexican mowers walk on it.

Dogs walk people so they can
sniff, pee, and shit; and old people
pick up dog poop and tie their shoes

while they’re down there. Few
run or jog and the mockingbirds mock
purposefully and others mock back.

The dogs don’t care and
the cats aren’t there and
the mower would upset them

and the walkers walk, maybe
to stop and talk. It’s somebody’s birthday
before it gets too hot,
it’s a dogless walk day for me.

Eat healthy, exercise, walk the dog, and look both ways.
Mind the sidewalk gaps.