Frankenberry's Attic

This weekend my Sis and the boys skipped town across the border into Canada for some birthday celebratin’ and I was left in charge as whole house cat dad in my job as backup human. Now as far as I know they’re coming back though I am sure there are some temptations to just stay, and not only for the Maple Syrup and the sanity, plus hell, truthfully, I’m not really much of a draw for return anyway, I mean I’ve got a few plusses for practical purpose but they’re pretty limited. The cats though, different story, so I am expecting them home at some point.

But while they were away?

I did not lack for company in my morning moments of … uhhhh … reflection … yeah, reflection, that’s it, when I went upstairs to feed my Sis’s two, Arthur and Saphira, and then let them outside to do cat stuff.

Last two images of an ad campaign for a cologne that smells of salmon, cut grass and fresh kitty litter.

“What? Don’t judge me ’cause I’m Arthur and you’re not …”

Arthuriss Cat Cologne … BE the Cat

-Saphira checking on happenings “what you reflecting on Steve? Oh, and how’s breakfast comin’? I’m assuming it’s you, backup human, so chop chop. ”

-Arthur “Hey, what’s shakin’ man?”

Upon leaving the facilities you can just grab Arthur by his “tail handle” and wheel him out like a kid’s toy.

I also decided to sit for a bit on the back patio with the Cricket as I have done before and let her go nose up into a beautiful afternoon and sing her song of the Cricket.

-the nose knows

And I revisited a poem I wrote for my Bella back in March with a minor edit but mostly just for the revisit as, even though I’ve turned it down and even though it is getting on the end of June, she is still madly in love with her pal Space Heater and still dreams cat, Bella Cat dreams, along with it.

Bella Dreams In Catscope?

Bella dreams in CatScope? Dreams I do not know
nor be told if I were to ask, could possibly understand in the fold’s

of fur coated scampers from the depths of a plush cat head
with a fresh laid towel and a space heater heart

Does she recall window scenes in those CatScope dreams
our years passed through open screens of Spring and Summer’s shared breeze

of life whispered into a house cat’s thoughts, “if only” adventures touched
with grass and trees, squirrels and mice, birds and bees and many limbed windowsill bugs

or even something more, as ongoing and endless as yesterday’s cat of being
stretching to non-fatal curiosities today again curled in this CatScope to begin

or continue secrets she keeps in her meditations and even communes
maybe a spirit only she knows of and what it calls truth

while letting me live the conceit of her world being of just us, me
with a stretch for a yawned pet but a different reality entirely

scampering from the depths of a plush cat head
with a fresh laid towel and a space heater heart

/////

Oh, and nephew Matt was able to put some steps on the wall from the top of the futon to lead to one of the windows in this basement room of mine, the one over my desk for Bella to maybe, at least, have something of a view.

I tried to show them to her.

Held her up to them.

Talked to her like she understood what I was getting at.

I Pointed.

It did not go well.

I’ll try again.

-Cheers all,