It looks like your friend Amber must be a Democrat. Don't you feel bad for having nursed this viper on your bosom?};^)>
Ambie is NOT a Democrat. She's an Independent.Ambie grew up without having the privilege of being a trustfundista. Poor thing! She had so many "homes" before she finally got here to her forever home.
Well, that's a relief!She couldn't have landed in a better place, bless her.
_________ BLACK CAT _________A ghost, though invisible, still is like a placeyour sight can knock on, echoing; but herewithin this thick black pelt, your strongest gazewill be absorbed and utterly disappear:just as a raving madman, when nothing elsecan ease him, charges into his dark nighthowling, pounds on the padded wall, and feelsthe rage being taken in and pacified.She seems to hide all looks that have ever falleninto her, so that, like an audience,she can look them over, menacing and sullen,and curl to sleep with them. But all at onceas if awakened, she turns her face to yours;and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,inside the golden amber of her eyeballssuspended, like a prehistoric fly. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke
__ THE POEM CAT __Sometimes the poemdoesn't want to come;it hides from the poetlike a playful catwho has rununder the house& lurks among slugs,roots, spiders' eyes,ledge so long out of the sunthat it is dankwith the breath of the Troll King. Sometimes the poemdarts awaylike a coy loverwho is afraid of being possessed,of feeling too much,of losing his essentialloneliness-which he callsfreedom. Sometimes the poemcan't requitethe poet's passion. The poem is a dancebetween poet & poem,but sometimes the poemjust won't danceand lurks on the sidelinestapping its feet-iambs, trochees-out of step with the musicof your mariachi band. If the poem won't come,I say: sneak up on it.Pretend you don't care.Sit in your chairreading Shakespeare, Neruda,immortal Emilyand let yourself flowinto their music. Go to the kitchenand start peeling onionsfor homemade sugo. Before you know it,the poem will be cryingas your ripe tomatoesbubble awaywith inspiration. When the whole house is filledwith the tender tomato aroma,start kneading the pasta. As you rockover the damp sensuous dough,making it bend to your will,as you make love to this mannaof flour and water,the poem will get hungryand comejust like a catcoming homewhen you leastexpect her. ~ Erica Jong (1942 - )
Her eyes tell the whole story!
Bunkerville, Intent, isn't she?
_______ TO A CAT _______ Mirrors are not more silentnor the creeping dawn more secretive;in the moonlight, you are that pantherwe catch sight of from afar.By the inexplicable workings of a divine law,we look for you in vain;More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun,yours is the solitude, yours the secret.Your haunch allows the lingeringcaress of my hand. You have accepted,since that long forgotten past,the love of the distrustful hand.You belong to another time. You are lordof a place bounded like a dream.~ William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
__________ TO AMBER _________Who could resist those eyes, pussycat?Trusting, demanding, eager, beseeching.We do not know precisely why we find you irresistible.After all, what do you really do to earn your daily portion?Keep the mice at bay? Well, maybe, but that's not whyWe love you. It's something about your aura of independenceEven though we know how vulnerable you really are.We'd hate to see your self-esteem damaged.If anyone hurt or betrayed you, it would certainly damage us.You just know you are important ––And we can't help but respond accordingly.And besides, you have about you an aura of mystery,And enchantment that makes you uniquely beautiful.We can never be sure whether you were put on earth –––– for our benefit,________or the other way 'round, can we?~ FreeThinke, October 1, 2016, 7:47 AM
A poem for Amber! I love it, FT!Thank you so much.BTW, when we named her, she had amber-colored eyes. Now, not so much.PS: Amber prefers to be called "Ambie" (with the accent on the last syllable). And Cameo likes to be called "Cammie" or "Cam-Cam." Cammie hates the n-word (the word "no"). Cats!
And I just got "Blues"...her name was "Blue," but it was too 'pick up truck and red bandana" for me...so, since I LOVE the Blues, she's BLUES now....big blue eyes out of a dark brown Siamese face..she is HEAVENLY.She was the cat taken in by my friend who'd have been 98 next week....she got her last year...she'd been telling me I should get a pet after Mr. Z died and I kept saying NO all these 7 years...finally, when she passed almost 2 months ago, I took Blues....and I'm so happy I did...She's an AMAZING little girl!And Nancy got her way! Z has a cat!Your Amber is adorable, and I KNOW that look!
Z!How old is your kitty?And, most important, do you have a photo of her?
Hi, the vet thinks she's about four and I can't get a picture that captures her beauty, but I'm TRYING! Those blue eyes are killer but don't really translate to film somehow... Will send one to you ASAP. Thanks xxx
What great news, Z! I'm so glad for you –– and for the kitty named Blues. I remember your telling me years ago, when I suggested you might want to get another cat or two after Marcello and Musetta passed away, that you couldn't possibly have ANOTHER cat, you only wanted Musetta and Marcello back, which was, of course, impossible.At any rate, I'm glad you've changed your mind. Cats are like little angels, they bring so much charm and good cheer into our lives.I don't know what I'd do without my two. Great company both of them, even though they are not very fond of each other."There's always something," as Granny used to say in Downton Abbey. I'm going to go on missing that show for a long time.
I'd love to have a Scottish fold. What beautiful cats. Or those massive Maine coon cats.BZ
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