crazy cat lady

Okay, for the record, I have only purposely acquired a cat twice. Both times from local animal control.  First time, I came home with two because it was a nursing mother and her sole remaining kitten, when I thought I had lost my favorite cat Honey (long story, but she came back after about 10 days gone, just in time to be a Christmas miracle).  Second time, it was to replace my ex-husband’s favorite cat who had died and left him grieving.  We found a home for the kitten, and now both “on purpose” cats live with him.

Every other cat I own claimed me and I acquiesed. My newest acquisition is no different.

I probably just put out a cat-loving vibe. Dogs and horses love me too. But not goats.

I Want Cats to Like Me

I should mention at this point that loving cats is another thing that Taylor Swift and I have in common.


Anyway, here’s the story of yesterday.  A winter rain storm was just about to hit as I left the store with my groceries.  Right next to my car, there was a truck with a yip-yip dog barking its little brains out in the cab. Standing next to the truck were an elderly couple who seemed anxious.  I loaded up my bags in the back, and then went around to the driver side door and reached for the handle.  That’s when I looked down and I saw the cutest little face that squeaked “Meow!” and then ran back under my car.

At this point, I dropped to my knees in a crowded parking lot (cat love = no shame) and the elderly couple came around to where I was and started relating events.

“We were putting our bags into the bed when we saw this streak of white dart down about four or five cars and run under yours.  It refuses to come out, and it refuses to leave. We don’t want to go home until we know it’s safe.”

At this point I sat back on my haunches and said, “Oh, it’s safe. I’m not leaving here without it.  Because I fell in love the moment I saw it.”

They were thrilled, kept saying that they would have caught it themselves and taken care of it, but the dog in the truck would probably freak it out.  I crawled around on the ground, offering to feed it tuna and salmon and chicken if it would come out.  Eventually, the man in the couple spooked it enough that it ran straight into my arms and started an industrial strength happy-hum.

I was in deep deep smit.

He looks a lot like Honey, but he has heterochromatic eyes like David Bowie.

Which is why I have named him Ziggy.


Watching him clean himself and settle into a comfortable bed (my bed, to be exact), I found myself writing a poem in my head.

BTW, after writing this poem, I decided to change the title of the poem previously called honesty to false witness.  Part of my next collection will have poems about sins such as…


I will not bow down to your God,
or your Goddess, for that matter.
still, if I must choose Deity,
it would surely be the latter.

Egyptian mythic pantheon;
of cosmetics, sex, secrets, dance;
holy creature: Bastet bats jars
off tables, given half a chance.

I won’t dote as a disciple.
still, I’ll serve dinner on a mat.
oh, don’t call it a deadly sin:
call it being owned by a Cat.


Hours I own all of these ideas, but none of these images.
%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close