Of the billions of souls on this planet, only two are curious enough to see if I am still breathing every morning. Although, I am not entirely convinced their interest is motivated by love.
I am exhausted by news and history. So, today I watched my cat play with a dead wasp. Made me realize. This is me on so many levels for all things "life". Just to clarify. I am the mouse.
The end of a VERY bad week, at the end of a bad month - and do I even need to say it? Unfortunately, since time still appears to be linear - I do not have much hope for 2021 either. Anywho. Go Buckeyes!
Not today, but sometimes cats are just metaphorical cruelties of "life". But mirrors, the Ark, Pepsi, sweaters and caps? That's a lot open for misinterpretation. Oh. Xmas Eve. And. YAY BROWNS!!!!! And. Go Buckeyes!
My cat Madeleine, named after the first feature film zombie, is a Calico that was found in the woods as a few days old kitten. Her colors and markings make it look like she escaped from the grave.
Is poor Ed's torment at the paws of the whimsically evil cat over? Perhaps his mouse friends can also find a few tiny shreds of his dignity left lying around to shove back in the grave with him.
How much longer can Ed serve as a source of amusement for the cat ... before he completely disintegrates? Inquisitive minds would like to know.
Two cats. A dog. Work. My existence. Not half-full. Nor half-empty. Just. Shattered. Glass. To tread over. And over. And over again. Smearing bloody breadcrumbs. Of torture. Of misery. But the only sign. I was here.
I over analyze. Over imagine. Over think. I drove my Literature professors insane. This is their revenge from beyond the grave. For the Universe. Now wishes me dead. Is it "Don't touch the sides" - for an Edtopsy?
To be honest? I'm not this optimistic. I predict we're on track for a "Night of the Comet" style ending. Just without the "Breakfast Club" meets "Red Dawn" band of misfits. Seriously. Released within 6 months of each other.
I don't know what my breaking point is - because I have NEVER let anyone push enough buttons to find out. I'm not sure what that means, but it must mean something. Oh. Sorry! Cat overlords? I prefer minced - not pâté. Thanks!
I spent many a sleepover weekend at my grandparents growing up. They taught me card games like Rummy, Crazy Eights and - eventually - Pinochle. Board games like Chinese checkers and Bingo. And. Of course. Tiddlywinks.
I was Age 4. My cat, Linus, was on my pillow. A feathery tail wrapped around my head and across my neck. It was the calmest, happiest and most content moment of my life. And. I would give or do anything – to feel that way again.
Yeah. I guess this is the best I can do today. At least I tried. Afterall. It's the lack of thought that counts. Moo.
In my early short stories I often used what I call “self resolving logical puns”. Similar to a “self reference” joke – except you may need some external context. THIS is an example in cartoon form. Oops! I didn’t name the artist?