THE PORPOISE
by Ogden Nash
I kind of like the playful porpoise,A healthy mind in a healthy corpus.
He and his cousin, the playful dolphin,
Why they like swimmin like I like golphin.
A porpoise... a dolphin... it's whatever you want it to be.
Showing posts with label cats eye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats eye. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Kind of On Porpoise
A healthy mind in a healthy corpus.
He and his cousin, the playful dolphin,
Why they like swimmin like I like golphin.
A porpoise... a dolphin... it's whatever you want it to be.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Where's Waldo... and Eugene?
Yesterday one of my kitties went missing. I had my list of all the things I needed to do but I was just a wreck. Eugene (brother of Gilda, wannabe Siamese rescue kitty) didn’t come home Wednesday night and was still out there somewhere by noon Thursday.
Eugene ALWAYS comes in at night, and periodically during the day to sit on the newspaper while I’m reading it or to sit on my lap with his chin on the laptop while I’m working. Much of the rest of the time he sits on top of the aviary tormenting the finches, or climbing it doing his Godzilla impression for them. He also likes to play Tag, You're It with Esmeralda.
And sometimes he goes in the upstairs bedroom window to torment Gracie (my little snippy tuxedo girl), whose private domain that is. He likes to steal her food. He also likes to steal Rhino and George’s food in the study. During the day, after the door to the study is open, I set their dish on top of the TV so the dogs can’t steal it. Eugene is agile enough to leap up there, balance, and chow down. (George is far too fat to do that.)
The few times he hasn’t come in at night, it’s because he was locked up somewhere: under the house, in the tool shed, in the closet. But I checked all those spaces at least ten times and he wasn't there.
The neighborhood coyotes have been quite bold of late and, undoubtedly, very hungry. He’s a bit large to be a coyote morsel, but still I worried. I checked the street and there were no fallen kitties lying there.
I was hoping he had wandered into someone’s cool garage and accidentally been trapped there overnight. Surely when they heard him, they would let him out. I lit a candle in the window to guide him home and went to the front, back, and side of the house and part-way up and down the block calling him.
Finally, around 1:00, as I was making a general fool of myself calling his name, "EUGEEEEEEENE! EUGENIE! EUGENIO! CUCHIE, CUCHIE!" Josh emerged from his bedroom and told me to cool my jets, so to speak.
The evening before, it was very hot and Josh had left his window open. Eugene, who likes to stroll through the alley, saw it and jumped in. He then found himself in an alien space where he had never been. He freaked out, dived under the bed, and hid there until 1:00 the following afternoon, when Josh dragged him out.
At least, we THINK that's what happened. Either that or he was ringing up charges on my credit card for Kitty Club Mud.
So Eugene is back. Wishing you all a lovely day. Oh yeah... and lock up and felines with wanderlust… or without it, for that matter.
Eugene ALWAYS comes in at night, and periodically during the day to sit on the newspaper while I’m reading it or to sit on my lap with his chin on the laptop while I’m working. Much of the rest of the time he sits on top of the aviary tormenting the finches, or climbing it doing his Godzilla impression for them. He also likes to play Tag, You're It with Esmeralda.
And sometimes he goes in the upstairs bedroom window to torment Gracie (my little snippy tuxedo girl), whose private domain that is. He likes to steal her food. He also likes to steal Rhino and George’s food in the study. During the day, after the door to the study is open, I set their dish on top of the TV so the dogs can’t steal it. Eugene is agile enough to leap up there, balance, and chow down. (George is far too fat to do that.)
The few times he hasn’t come in at night, it’s because he was locked up somewhere: under the house, in the tool shed, in the closet. But I checked all those spaces at least ten times and he wasn't there.
The neighborhood coyotes have been quite bold of late and, undoubtedly, very hungry. He’s a bit large to be a coyote morsel, but still I worried. I checked the street and there were no fallen kitties lying there.
I was hoping he had wandered into someone’s cool garage and accidentally been trapped there overnight. Surely when they heard him, they would let him out. I lit a candle in the window to guide him home and went to the front, back, and side of the house and part-way up and down the block calling him.
Finally, around 1:00, as I was making a general fool of myself calling his name, "EUGEEEEEEENE! EUGENIE! EUGENIO! CUCHIE, CUCHIE!" Josh emerged from his bedroom and told me to cool my jets, so to speak.
The evening before, it was very hot and Josh had left his window open. Eugene, who likes to stroll through the alley, saw it and jumped in. He then found himself in an alien space where he had never been. He freaked out, dived under the bed, and hid there until 1:00 the following afternoon, when Josh dragged him out.
At least, we THINK that's what happened. Either that or he was ringing up charges on my credit card for Kitty Club Mud.
So Eugene is back. Wishing you all a lovely day. Oh yeah... and lock up and felines with wanderlust… or without it, for that matter.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright
I found some wonderful pieces of tiger’s eye in Albuquerque, and couldn’t resist playing with them. You can look into these pieces and see so many colors. There’s fire lurking in there… and luminescence… and so much more.
I just moved both of these to my etsy shop. They languished on ebay and they need to be out in sunlight, being worn and seen.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
~William Blake
Gilda does her own stalking tiger impression. She could listen to William Blake being read to her 24 hours a day. At least when she’s not running from the dog.
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