This is not a usual "Notes from the Writer" post, but rather a prose laden attempt at explaining what now belongs to my cat. This blogpost was first published at Patreon on FEB 27, 2021 AT 8:00 AM
The cat, CogDat playing with her bear.
The Cat
All Bags. All Plastic Bags. Especially the ones you say I can’t have.
Freshly vacated warm chairs you intend on returning to.
All beds. Including the beds I’ve commandeered for myself. Your beds.
Shoes.
Pants.
Pant legs.
Legs.
Chests,
All the Food Everywhere and Some of The Stuff That Is Not Food But That Might Be Food Or Might Taste Good.
Desks and Counters-PUT ME DOWN YOU HANDSY HAIRLESS APE-Desks and Coun-HEY THAT IS NOT COOL GIVE ME THE DESKS AND THE COUNTERS YOU GORILLA’S COUSIN.
(Sigh. Desks and counters when no one’s awake or home.)
This carpet to scratch.
This chair to scratch.
This couch to claw up
This human poet’s arm to scratch up
(But not the $40 scratch post with cat safe sisal rope and a fluffy ball with attached bell)
Bell Balls! Wait where did I put those?
Not these teething toys either.
Or this flat panel scratching sisal post. It has no bells on it.
This human child that can’t pick me up the way I like
but who I really like because said child runs really fast and has these nummy things called Legos which he hates me knocking over so of course I love doing that too.
This human adult who not only knows how to pick me up, but can hold me in this thing called a baby cat wrap so well I fall aslee-