“If you’re feeling fancy free, come wander through the world with me, and any place we chance to be, will be a rendezvous. Two for the road, we’ll travel down the years, collecting precious memories, selecting souvenirs, and living life the way we please. In the summertime the sun will shine, in winter we will drink summer wine, and any day that you are mine, will be a lovely day. As long as love still wears a smile, I know that we’ll be two for the road, and that’s a long long while.” (-songwriters Henry Mancini & Henry Nicola)
“The trouble with a kitten is that…eventually it becomes a…cat!” wrote snide poet Ogden Nash.
I, likewise, resent catty folks whom I cross the street to avoid, with a sprinter-type determined dash.
Copy-cats “protect” themselves with copyrights’ (© © ©) band aids post theft, pirating creativity to earn cash?
“Curiosity killed the cat” or so ’tis said; knowledge’s not wicked, but nosiness produces trash!
I have spent sixteen Christmases with the finest “prince” of my dreams
Who’s held me together whenever I fall apart at the seams,
He’s grown shaggy, deaf, lumpy, slender of build, sneezing as he dreams.
His latest vet bill describes him as “unkempt”? (YET) “No brushing ,” he screams!
“The cars and the lorries run over the kerb
And the villagers put up a notice ROAD CLOSED–
So that nothing untoward may chance to disturb
Deuteronomy’s rest when he feels so disposed.”
Ms. Golightly, nouveau-sophisticate, Tiffany’s hillbilly,
Spoke more directly: “I’m like ‘Cat’ here, a no-name slob…
I’m not Holly. I’m not Lula Mae, either.
We just took up one day by the river.
I’ll never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well be dead.
It’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.
You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do the stronger they get, until they’re strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky…
We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us.
We don’t even belong to each other.” (-Truman Capote)
This past holiday two new Audrey Hepburn dolls provided thrills —
“Sabrina”, “Princess Ann” nestled in my scrawny arms! Fashion frills!
Thanks to a sensitive caring son, what I needed ‘stead of pills.
(He’ll get the girls back when he reads one of my 25 cent wills!)
“The days dwindle down to a precious few…September…November…” (-K. Weill, M. Anderson)
Neighbor boy David screeching out a garage band tune — remember?
Balmy June festive night…only I seemed to see dusty kitten
Smack in middle of bricked alley-way — licking one white mitten.
(This Kipling “Cat” who “Walked by Himself” ….)
Neighbor girl Jeanne located a butterfly net — we coaxed. Lured.
“Cat” teased for three days…traffic whizzed…I won. Inside. Bath time. “Cat” purred.
Wild one…few doc visits…rugged! Variety? Heinz “Russian Blue”
“Kitty scar” chin to sternum, both green eyes ever quivering — true. (TRUE!)
My best friend and I, without effort, formed a mystical bond fast.
“Golden Compass“? Each other… reader Andria confirmed — at last. (- Philip Pullman, 1995)
I laugh, he purrs…I weep, he soothes…I fret, fear, mourn. He calms…we thrive.
Exact same age we two in 2011, but he leapt ahead (twice five).
Nothing perfect… wonderful…unblemished… divine…lasts forever…
When compasses evaporate, WE’LL disappear as ties sever.
“Moon River, wider than a mile
I’m crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way…
Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waiting, round the bend
My Huckleberry Friend, Moon River, and me.” (-Johnny Mercer)