Bed Monster

Noah, attacking a bed monster.

So what was that all about last night?

"What was what all about?"

You know.  That little madness going on at the foot of the bed last night.

"Little madness?  There was a monster in your bed."

There was no monster.

"Oh, there was.  Believe me."

There was no monster.  I would have known.  I was sleeping and my feet would have been touching it.

"Your feet?"

Yes, my feet.  You were jumping all over them.

"Oh, that couldn't have been your feet.  It was too big to be feet, I'm sure.  And too squirmy.  Monsters are squirmy when you jump about on them, and these were definitely squirmy."

Yes, because you were jumping on them and wrestling them.  You got a claw through, too.  See my ankle?

"That is not my claw mark.  That is clearly the bite of a bed monster."

Do not do that again tonight!  I will kick you off the bed.

"If I hadn't been there to subdue the monster last night, who knows if you would even have feet today?  I was only protecting you.  Someone needs to be on guard at night, and I have just the eyes and claws to do that!"

I will be fine.  Just stay on your towel, keep your hairs off my blanket, and leave my feet alone.

"I do leave your feet alone.  We will just have to see what the bed monster has in store for tonight.  A cat has to do what a cat has to do."

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Bed Monster

Toes squirm

Heels wiggle

Calves tremble

Knees jiggle 

Cat scrambles

Then pounces

Legs flail

Cat bounces

Cat monster

Attacks the sheet

But bed monster's

Just my feet!*

*Noah has requested that I add this note about my poem: "This is fictional.  Bed monsters are real monsters; they are not feet.  And I am not a 'cat monster'.  This is clearly a fictitious cat.  Any resemblance to me is purely coincidental, accidental and unintentional, I'm sure."

It's Caturday Again

It's Cat - I mean Sat-urday.

"No, you were right the first time."

Well, really there is no day named 'Caturday'; it's Saturday.

"A grievous oversight."

Maybe, but that's just how it is.

"Be that as it may, today is still MY day.  And I'm wondering what wonderful things we  should say about me today."

I can't think of anything yet.  It's been a slow week for you.

"I did Pilates with the ball for a while.  Then I wrestled with that intruder, but you took it away."

Yes, well, that was the cord to charge the dog's training collar, so we didn't need it destroyed.

"Huh.  Really.  I am not fond of that collar.  I'm going to tell her it's you who is pressing a button to make her stop chasing me."

Do not tell the dog anything.  You tease the dog on purpose, and then she gets all excited and crazy.  I need to have her pay attention to me and calm down!

"Why?  She is very good at paying attention."

Yes, to you.

"I can help with her lessons."

Don't help.  You've done enough already - like batting the ball down the basement stairs so you can play with it down there.  You know that drives her nuts!

"She needs to know how to share.  I'm teaching her."

That's not teaching her.  That is harassing her.

"I suppose next you will say playing with the dog treats you keep on the table is harassing her, too."

Yes, I suppose I will.

"Maybe you should not write about me today.  You seem a little out of sorts.  I think I should take a nap until you are ready to write something wonderful.
Could you please open the bedroom door?"

Sure.

"Thanks.  Leave it open.  I may want to come out."

Of course you will.  Would you like the TV on?

"No, I'm fine.  Just top off my bowl while you are out in the kitchen.  It may be low.  I'll be out later to make sure you did."

Saturday-caturday!  Might as well tidy his litter box while I'm at it.

"You must be Claude."

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Mewsday

Noah thanks you for your kind words on Caturday, and has requested another day.  Today.

My husband was kind enough to hold this roll up for me.

I need wrapping paper.  Where did I put my wrapping paper?

"Perhaps you don't have any."

Yes, I have some.

"Well, maybe you don't.  Maybe you need to get some."

Why would I need to get some?  I bought some just a little while ago.  I just don't remember where I put it.

"Well, it will be too hard to find now.  Maybe you should go buy some more at that store near my cat food store."

Wait.  I remember.  I put the roll under my bed.  Just a minute.

"I think you should not look there.  That's my area under the bed.  It is too dark under there for you to see anyway."

What's this?  This was my new wrapping paper!

"Oh, is that it?"

Yes.  This is my wrapping paper.  It has holes all through it!  What did you do?

"Ripping.  Ripping paper.  I thought you said 'ripping' paper.  So I did."

It's wrapping paper - for wrapping presents so they look nice.

"I think it looks quite festive myself...let the good times roll and all that."

This is going to be hard to put a good spin on, Noah.

"Oh, speaking of "spin", could you put another roll of white paper on the thingy in the bathroom.  We seem to have run out."

To Noah, For Noah, About Noah

It's Saturday and Noah says that it is his turn.

He has requested a poem, a poem for him, about him, to him...an it had better be good.

"I would like a poem.  A good poem."

What should it be about?

"Me."

Of course.  Um, can I use your name in it?

"That would be nice."

 Would you like a funny poem or a serious poem?

"I think if it were about me, it would be serious. Don't you?"

Yes, I suppose it would.

"I will read it when you are done.  Make sure you say something about how sharp my claws are."

Oh, yes, I think I can do that.  I think I have a picture that can illustrate that.

"Illustrate?"

Yes.  I picture that shows how nice and sharp your claws are.

"We will see.  It must show me in a good light.  Just enough scary in it to be imaginable.  They don't need to see my claws, just what they can do."

 Let's see.  How about this one?

"This is not my sharpest claw work. But I do like the waterfall effect I've created here."

So is this one okay?

"Yes.  You may use that one.  Poem?"

Yes, poem.  Let's see what I can come up with.

"Make it a good one.  I'll wait here."

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A Job Well Done

He came into the bathroom
The room was looking neat
He saw a roll of paper
Right beside a seat
He flexed his claws and stretched them
He stood on his back feet
He placed his front ones on it
And said, "This will be sweet."
With a patter, patter, patter
He began to beat
With motions that unraveled
Each little paper sheet
Until he had a mountain
And unrolling was complete.
He couldn't think what else to do
The paper lay in pleats
His job was done, there was no more
It must be time for eats.

For Noah, about Noah, to Noah - by Donna JT Smith
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Done.

"Yes, that will do.  Now about those 'eats'.  Did you see my bowl?  There are only two pieces in it.  Why are there not more?"

Coming.