If it looks like a duck,
And quacks like a duck,
And cooks like a duck,
And tastes like a duck,
But if you asked for turkey or chicken, and not duck -
What is the point of it all?
Monday, February 08, 2016
Monday, February 01, 2016
Tiny Tiny Animal
We have a tiny little creature roaming the house.
Tiny little paws slowly stepping, precariously, testing every step, softly, with no noise, softly across the floor.
Tiny little face, with big wide scared yet curious eyes, shining blue in the dim kitchen light, looking at the big scary world around her.
Tiny face with big eyes, looking out, tiny nose sniffing at everything in her path, tiny tiny head reaching out to sniff, so that her feet don't have to move a step beyond where she has firmly tested the ground.
Tiny little paws, stretching out to reach my fingers, tiny little nails, tiny yet sharp, reaching out to ensure she can grasp whatever flesh I am offering her.
Ouch! It hurts. But her tiny face with big eyes, are serious. She did not mean to hurt me.
Tiny tiny head. Poking in whatever cupboard I open. Alas, kitty, you can't be here. Tiny tiny body releases an unimaginable amount of white fur into the air, settling on everything, invisible yet omnipresent.
Tiny little brain. Curious and dignified. You are beneath me. Now that I know it, I don't care to explore it. I'm going off. And the tiny tiny tail fluffs right up in the air, as she turns her tiny butt at me and walks off.
And yet, as I stay behind in the kitchen, the tiny animal comes back. With her tiny heart, she loves me. She can't say it, but I can sense it. She loves me in her own tiny, cute, catty, kitty little way.
She looks at me with those big blue eyes. They really are too big for her face. She comes around and smoothly glides by my legs. I feel the faintest draft of her tiny breath against my skin as she floats by. Tiny tiny animal wants to be near me.
She sits down, proud, yet humble. Commanding, yet requesting. Dignified, yet pleading. Haughty, yet friendly. And she looks at me with those big blue eyes.
I know what she's saying. Okay, kitty, I hear you. Time for sweet, tiny dreams. Do cats dream?
I start to walk the stairs. She sits at the foot and looks up at me. Well, what are you waiting for? This is what you wanted, right? Come on, kitty, come this way.
And she bounds up the flight, taking two steps at a time, like I once used to do in my youth.
I open the bedroom door. Come in, tiny kitty. She looks at me, then bounds into the room. I enter, take off my robe, and climb into bed. She sits on the carpet and looks at me.
I make a little space for her, on the edge of the bed, right near my chest. Come on, kitty, I say, patting the space. Come here.
She bounds up. Lays down, and closes her eyes, in her sweet, tiny way. I love you, her attitude says, but on my terms, are the unspoken words. She can't speak. But I know.
I love you too, kitty. And upon her lips is almost a smile, as there is on mine, as I stroke her back into dreamworld, where we play together again.
Tiny tiny sweet animal. My beautiful Margaux.
Tiny little paws slowly stepping, precariously, testing every step, softly, with no noise, softly across the floor.
Tiny little face, with big wide scared yet curious eyes, shining blue in the dim kitchen light, looking at the big scary world around her.
Tiny face with big eyes, looking out, tiny nose sniffing at everything in her path, tiny tiny head reaching out to sniff, so that her feet don't have to move a step beyond where she has firmly tested the ground.
Tiny little paws, stretching out to reach my fingers, tiny little nails, tiny yet sharp, reaching out to ensure she can grasp whatever flesh I am offering her.
Ouch! It hurts. But her tiny face with big eyes, are serious. She did not mean to hurt me.
Tiny tiny head. Poking in whatever cupboard I open. Alas, kitty, you can't be here. Tiny tiny body releases an unimaginable amount of white fur into the air, settling on everything, invisible yet omnipresent.
Tiny little brain. Curious and dignified. You are beneath me. Now that I know it, I don't care to explore it. I'm going off. And the tiny tiny tail fluffs right up in the air, as she turns her tiny butt at me and walks off.
And yet, as I stay behind in the kitchen, the tiny animal comes back. With her tiny heart, she loves me. She can't say it, but I can sense it. She loves me in her own tiny, cute, catty, kitty little way.
She looks at me with those big blue eyes. They really are too big for her face. She comes around and smoothly glides by my legs. I feel the faintest draft of her tiny breath against my skin as she floats by. Tiny tiny animal wants to be near me.
She sits down, proud, yet humble. Commanding, yet requesting. Dignified, yet pleading. Haughty, yet friendly. And she looks at me with those big blue eyes.
I know what she's saying. Okay, kitty, I hear you. Time for sweet, tiny dreams. Do cats dream?
I start to walk the stairs. She sits at the foot and looks up at me. Well, what are you waiting for? This is what you wanted, right? Come on, kitty, come this way.
And she bounds up the flight, taking two steps at a time, like I once used to do in my youth.
I open the bedroom door. Come in, tiny kitty. She looks at me, then bounds into the room. I enter, take off my robe, and climb into bed. She sits on the carpet and looks at me.
I make a little space for her, on the edge of the bed, right near my chest. Come on, kitty, I say, patting the space. Come here.
She bounds up. Lays down, and closes her eyes, in her sweet, tiny way. I love you, her attitude says, but on my terms, are the unspoken words. She can't speak. But I know.
I love you too, kitty. And upon her lips is almost a smile, as there is on mine, as I stroke her back into dreamworld, where we play together again.
Tiny tiny sweet animal. My beautiful Margaux.
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