Tuesday, March 07, 2017


      It was like getting a cat
      thinking it would act like a dog
                               —Ruth Lepson

It’s the British invasion here.
And that's cool.  Even though 
I was supposed to bring left
overs from home for my lunch,
which certainly would have
been better than the turkey

sandwich from Quizno’s.
Plus I have popcorn hulls
stuck between my teeth
and this is happening in
two different dimensions.
I mean time zones.

Coco wants out.  She
hates me, now more
than ever.  Coco the Loco.
Sepia the Cat, on the other
hand, was a dog in a cat’s
body if ever there was one.

She loved every breathing
thing, wasn’t the least bit bi-
polar, and if a dog, per chance,
dropped by to visit, and, no lie,
the larger the better (and we
seemed to know a LOT of

very large dogs) she’d just jump
up and down nipping at its neck
and playing with it like it were her
sibling.  Those poor dogs.  It seemed
they never knew whether to run
or gobble her up like a very small

appetizer (the real expensive ones
that are often served on very tight
budgets so the sit-down dinner price
is considerably less pricy, often with
out the guests feeling anything but
slighted.  Tricks of the trade....

Back to meanwhile, or to that thing
I escape these days that’d be called
“The Present” (I like to think of my
escape a matter of life and death.
How fun, right?), Coco claims territory
and more than a bit of terror.  She

growls now, quite often, when I approach.
Me!  The one who’s always kept her food
bowl at slightly less than empty!  Sepia
would by now be here in bed with me,
her dogless catbody completely under the
blanket dozing somewhere between ribs and hip.