more kitten pals

In honor of Thelma and Catelina (pictured above) and Louise and Cleocatra (not pictured now but later): this little ditty to the tune of the Tallis Canon

Which bird this is I think I know
It warbles in the bush below
It will not see me lurking here
Nor feint away a fatal blow

This fatal blow that might come soon
Is naught of kitten anger born
But more in keeping with my grasp
Of when to eat and when to mourn

I mourn this little helpless bird
Its motherless and plaintive cries
tug at my heart and give me pause
And with my paws a heavy sigh

This heavy sigh that fills my soul
Conforms to my ex'tential lot
In lieu of birds perhaps a vole
Will lapse into my cooking pot

kitten pals

Louise, our cat pictured here, has a difficult relationship with what I call her "kitten sisters in Christ." Deep inside I know she wants to embrace them; to cherish them; to encourage them with acts of charity and altruism. She can't help it if tuna shorts out the altruism circuits of her brain. She can't help it if she's conditioned to protect her territory at all costs. When you see her here, a pink bow appended to her neck, what you are looking at is more than a small domestic cat capable of multiferous vocalizations. What you see here is a cry for help.