Ear Blast
30 April 2006
Poor Max!
Got his eardrum blown out
By someone too lax
Who chooses to sit and pout
Instead of learning how to turn the dial
So the earpiece feedback doesn’t echo a mile
And leave those who can still hear
Trembling daily in fear
Of momentarily being deafened
By ignorance too foolish to defend
Star-Spangled Neighborhood
27 April 2006
It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood today. The sun shone brilliantly, glinting off the wind-tipped water. A sizable flag, worthy of a battlefield, waved gently at the entrance to the ungated community. I don’t remember noticing it before, perhaps because it had previously been obscured by fog, rain, and night. Today, however, it set me singing, and soon I found myself in the midst of a rousing chorus of The Star-Spangled Banner. What startled me, however, was the repeated desire to holler out, “Play Ball!” as I rounded the final phrase of the song before plunging back in for another round, as generally happens when a song settles into one’s head.
Play Ball: This is the exhortation of governmental and commercial interests alike. In this land of free enterprise and home of the brave entrepreneur, the general populace is daily encouraged to play ball, to buy into shared acquisitive interests, to blindly stay within bounds and fend off the dangerous tendency to succumb to “rabbit ears” that might cause us to notice what observers think and say. Such spectators are stigmatized as foreigners, aliens, and special interest groups. What can they possibly understand of our shared aspirations? We dare not let them disrupt our unity of spirit as we surge forward toward our destined Pyrrhic victories.
How does one’s mind wend its way from such a patriotic stimulus to such dangerously subversive thoughts? Clearly, it comes from being in a clearly foggy place.
Infinite Hold
25 April 2006
An 800 number call is a curious thing
First there’s that familiar sounding ring
A perky voice pipes up to greet you
Without even asking what why or who
You just get a list of options from which to pick
But you’ll find yourself on hold if you don’t decide quick
That’s when you’ll find yourself on Infinite Hold
Clinging to your receiver till your fingers grow cold
Maybe there’s music but maybe there’s not
Sometimes there’s silence when a company doesn’t care squat
Static’s another curious sound you might hear
If hanging up and redialing is something you fear
I’ve been hanging on here now for nearly two days
My hand’s gone numb and my mind’s in a daze
Every so often someone comes back to promise
Someone will be with me shortly because I’m a call they don’t want to miss
I’d hang up but I’ve forgotten how
To their tactics I refuse to bow
I’ve paid good money and I want it back
It’s just logic that I so clearly lack
Things I Have Learned So Far Today
by Max’s P.U.
24 April 2006
Even a pull-top can cover can have a very sharp edge.
An opposable thumb really makes a difference when trying to do the darnedest things, such as opening a band-aid wrapper, hitting the spacebar on a keyboard, and even trying to slip in a casual game of Freecell or Minesweeper.
Blood can flow pretty darned fast, even uphill.
I’m not as ambidextrous as I thought.
JJ is more perceptive than he gets credit for being.
The sound of someone on one’s roof can resemble the sound of a delivery guy unloading a shipment outside the front door, but the intents are opposite, the former bent on taking, the latter on giving.
Much can happen before a day is half done.
JJ’s UnBirthday
21 April 2006
It should have been his birthday. Thought waves had been emanating in anticipation all month long. Plans had been laid. He’d awaken ready for the day and raring to go, but it was not to be.
Breakfast was the usual; no surprises there. The courtyard door was opened early, and he was not at all reluctant to make use of the opportunity, but alas, it was not to be.
He waited patiently by the garage door, though his quivering tail gave the lie to his seeming placidity as he eagerly awaited the morning treat. After awhile, he realized that people were moving more slowly than he, and he returned to the house, only to hear the garage door opening. Out he zoomed at full tilt – BANG! The garage door swung shut, nearly taking a whisker with it.
Startled, he retreated as rapidly as he had emerged. A moment later the door swung open again. Wary now, he stayed back. Next thing he knew, he was being picked up and kissed, reassured that he is loved. Gradually, his heartbeat slowed.
Eventually, he returned to the courtyard and sat watching the usual morning’s preparations. When it was time for the door to be locked, he trotted promptly inside without hesitation or invitation, to be rewarded by the assurance that he is a “Good Boy!” So why had the door slammed in his face earlier?
It had started out a chilly morning, but by midday the sun, frequently a late riser, had returned to burn off the early fog. In due time the courtyard door was reopened, and he enjoyed his in-and-out privileges. What he really wanted, though, he just couldn’t seem to get: A Game.
Several times he thought it might happen. After all, there had been promises of games all day long as part of his birthday celebration. At one point he was lifted up and allowed to check out the toy closet. His nose twitched as he vacillated between hope and dread, not quite sure what he was supposed to do, afraid that if he was too forward, he would lose it all. Sure enough, he was set back down without any real opportunity to enjoy any of his toys. What was the good of that?
How could his day have been so grossly miscalculated? What did “last month” mean, especially to an eager furry fellow? Max had had his day, without equivocation. He didn’t even get a shrimp dinner.
Poor Little Guy!
Sunshine on My Shoulders
6 April 2006
John Denver had it right:
Sunshine on my shoulders makes me smile
Seems like the rains
Have lasted quite awhile
But today the sun has returned to play
And I have only good things to say
The warmth on my fur
Is just what I’ve needed
Sunshine makes me purr
Clearly my needs have been heeded
I’m a happy cat sitting in the sunshine
Warming my fur, making me feel so fine.
Oh Happy Day
5 April 2006
Today the sun returned and, for the first time in a long time, I eagerly explored the courtyard confines. So much has changed. In addition to all the things P.U. has been doing about the place, the rains have resculpted the basic terrain, carving out new paths to explore, turning over previously unexpected lairs. My whiskers quivered with anticipation as I investigated each new change.
Slugs and snails have been exchanging houses, just as we did last summer. The earthworms were out in force, feasting on the freshly overturned soil. New grass shoots have sprung up across the recently ravaged green. The newly planted apple tree is already settling into its freshly raised mound and putting out infant leaves. Soon the baby spiders will be out and about, a nice change from those pesky ants that have moved indoors during the recent rains. Overhead is the half-familiar sound of baby birdsong, signaling the onset of a new season. Soon the moon will be full again. I can’t wait.
In Memoriam
4 April 2006
Tomorrow is the beginning of Ching Ming
Memorial season for the dead
Evidently it’s a Hawaii Chinese kind of thing
That’s been pounded into my head
When families and clans gather together
To visit our ancestors’ graves
One can always count on stormy weather
As we offer what the dead one craves
Things used to be straightforward and simple
Fireworks, paper money, jai, and a suckling pig
But now there are cars, condos, even a servant with a dimple
And for those who can afford it, the most elaborate rig
How can one keep up with so many dying and dead?
Yet one must go on living and trying to keep a cool head
The rains continue to fall here,
But I guess I should count my blessings,
For I hear that storms far and near
Are causing all kinds of distressings
People huddled in small closet spaces
Find their house ripped asunder
Surly winds leave no traces
Lightning strikes, leaving only thunder
Piles of rubble and debris abound in lieu of hope
As interminable rains wash dreams down a soaked mudslide
How are families in distress supposed to cope?
Trust in God and others to help take it all in stride
Hawaiian say Pele gives and takes back in return
Her gift of land is not something to spurn
But when she returns to claim what is hers
She'll not brook piteous demurs
When Nature has so generously provided
Only to find herself by greedy developers chided
We really have no right to complain
When she decides to reclaim her domain
Of course, that's easier to say than to accept
When it's my turn, there'll be a different tune, you bet
It's hard enough to live on just a prayer
Though maybe that'll make things easier if it's no longer there
We really don't need to go overseas
To make dead people and increase their needs
We've plenty of grief and strife right here
Might as well stay home and rail at what's near.
Good Lovings
30 March 2006
Woke up with a start
I could feel my heart
Headed out the door
Sniffing the floor
Looking for my human
Who was sitting on the can
Just needed to be kneaded
To ease away sweat that had beaded
Some wispy fragment of a dream
I’d let build up too much steam
Till the knot in my stomach
Had left me a bit of a wreck
Good loving’s all it takes
For all our sakes
To usher back in the sunshine
And put an end to a blue day’s pine
Shared strokes and a kiss
Bring back my sense of bliss
What to Write
27 March 2006
What to write?
That’s the plight
So much in the news
People lining up in queues
Marching in protest
Streets filled with unrest
Both at home and abroad
Against governments flawed
People dying in their own neighborhood
Shot by others who feel misunderstood
Where’s Pollyanna when you need her
To give one a reason to purr?
Grrr…
So Many Minds
22 March 2006
So many minds busily clicking
So much noise today with all this ticking
How’s a fellow supposed to sleep
Without clothes piled in a warm heap?
There’s so much tension, I can’t concentrate
Do I interrupt P.U. when there’s JJ to bait?
The doorbell rings; I hate that sound
It always makes me want to go to ground
Dishes are banging, keyboards are clacking
This is worse than when everybody’s packing
At least the glorious sunset signals the end for today
And ushers in feasting and a nighttime of play
Sunset
21 March 2006
I sit and watch the setting sun
See the neighborhood having funWhile JJ sleeps between the sheets
And dreams of crispy protein treats
P.U. smells of something tasty
Typing here all stern and hasty
Nature and Nurture now converge
It’s time for the Maxter to emerge!
Sleep
18 March 2006
Must sleep today to make up for last night
When P.U. tossed and turned
As though in some furious fight
And the skin burned
As though inflamed from within
Fueled by some unseen coal bin
Today though the sun shines brilliant and bright
I seek the cool undercover darkness of night
It’s time to return to my nocturnal roots
So I can survive tonight’s repeated boots
Out of bed as P.U. once again tosses and turns
From the shooting pains and the skin that burns
I Don’t Understand
14 March 2006
I don’t understand why P.U. was so upset
Yesterday was the warmest it’s been yet
We should keep the heater on all the time
I felt so good I wanted to climb
Everything, everyone
Under the sun
Warmth is free
Or should be
Doesn’t cost one single thin dime
And it feels so wonderfully sublime
But there’s P.U., who just can’t let
Well enough alone, I’ll bet
That’s why last night
It was so cold we had to fight
Just to get warm enough to snuggle
Under the covers for a good cuddle
Quiet Day
12 March 2006
Quiet day
Kids play
Sunshine passes
Sleet stirs masses
Cars crash
People dash
Rain falls
Mood palls
Heater stifles
Sound of rifles
Time to sleep
Dream deep
Got Shot Today
8 March 2006
Got shot today
Thought I was headed out to play
Cruising down the hall to send P.U. on the way
Got caught up in a fond farewell embrace
Ended up being removed from my place
Squeezed into a small, dark, smelly space
Fear-bleached scents: more than a trace
Engine started, garage door rose
I could feel my claws curling into my toes
As I heard the garage door once again close
I could taste bile in my throat as it rose
But then fresh scents assailed my nose
There was something familiar about the road
We’d gone this way before, just like Mr. Toad
There’d been a long wait in a distant parking lot
Then we’d returned to our starting spot
JJ had been jealous because he’d been left behind
Reminding him when I got back wouldn’t be unkind
But that kind of trip this one was not meant to be
As all too soon for myself I would see
There was a young woman who weighed me in
Then a young man, not particularly thin
Who tried to stick a cold object up my ass
Till I hissed him; then he let it pass
I was very upset as I’m sure you’ll understand
Respect’s not an option; it’s what I demand
But P.U. was there to hold me until
My breathing slowed down and I lay still
A long time later another young man
This one a doctor with a bit of a tan
He spoke with assurance but moved carefully
Looked into my eyes and understood my plea
I didn’t appreciate the four shots he gave me
But soon enough all I knew was that I was groggy
On the ride home we sped ‘round a curve
Someone made P.U. have to swerve
I found myself rolling along on my side
But I wouldn’t have known if it’d been high tide
Eventually we made it back home in one piece
And I was set down in the kitchen for release
JJ didn’t dare ask questions when he saw my face
Though he did hiss me later when he wanted my space
But mostly he’s left me alone out of the way
Because, well, you know, I got shot today
After the Rain
7 March 2006
Rain rattled on the rooftop and beat on the window panes, then stopped. P.U. opened the glass door onto the courtyard after only a brief argument. The newly cut grass stubble has not yet put forth fresh shoots, but there remain a few untouched tips of old blades, still good for a light snack. I step carefully across the stubble, stopping to greet an earthworm here, a spider there, old friends from before the long annual cold spell.
Behind me I hear JJ checking out the rainwater, P.U. cautioning him against drinking it, as though we do not understand the concerns caused by Marco’s recent demise. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, there arises a once familiar sound: the twittering of newborn birds. JJ is aroused. Too bad he just got his legs run off during his morning exercise session… :->
P.U. leaves the doorway; I follow to supervise the writing of this blog. Too often of late I fear I have been misquoted, misrepresented, misunderstood. One must speak one’s own mind if one desires understanding.
Take the Oscars — no, seriously, take them. Take them off the air. Take away all commercial-interlaced programming that insists on blaring and subsiding, blaring and subsiding, as though eardrums are their personal toys to destroy as they see fit. Of course, that should not be taken as advocacy for exclusive dvd programming either, for even with the closed captioning on, somehow the television set continues to blast and subside, blast and subside. What do those movie makers think they’re doing anyway: imitating real life? How representational can they be when they feature extinct creatures and sentient machinery? Give me a nice, quiet film with lush scenery and low, slow dialogue or better yet, silent films. Now, that was filmmaking!
Who am I kidding? I’ve never seen a silent film – only one on mute. Now that’s what I’m talking about. How else is a fellow to get quality time with the family and still keep up with 22 hours of rest a day? I ask you . . .
Outside My Window
6 March 2006
Outside my window there is a tree
Whose branches have been bare
I sit and watch it day after day
Looking for signs of life out there
Now as the new moon waxes strong
And rains beat upon the glass
I see the beginnings of little buds
And at its base fresh grass
My energy, too, is on the rise
I feel it in my joints and jaws
If only there were birds and mice
To catch between my paws
But, alas, there’s just the one
Who always serves my needs
Where is my little brother now,
JJ, of the many speeds?
M is for March, Melissa, and Max. Let the blustery winds blow where they will - we'll party hardy!
