micropoem for the day: boxer

My cat, Little Bear, lies out on the couch or the bed or the table or wherever she darn well pleases. I walk into the room and see her over there. She looks up at me with those eyes of suspicion. Like you should leave me alone. I am not in a particular mood for playing. I walk over and she’s on her hind legs. Suddenly she’s reaching out like some kind of boxer. Now I know what they mean kid gloves. Only she’s the one wearing the gloves. Ka-pow!

the cat a boxer
a right jab, then a left jab
I’m down for the count

haiku for the day: another cat’s tail (oops, I mean tale)

My cat, Little Bear, likes to play. But her idea of play is not mine. I do all the work and she watches. I throw the ball and she watches where it goes. Then expects me to go and get it. I’ve done it so much I think she’s got me trained. From time to time, I dangle a long shoe string over her. She goes crazy after it. Before I know it, she has pulled it out of my hand. Then Little Bear does a Garfield with a “I don’t want to play now.”

playing with the cat
her tail snaps to attention
the end of playtime