The Cat inside me cannot settle.
“Do you want to go in or out?” I say.
She does not know.
She winds her way around my feet then nips my ankle.
“Okay, okay, I get it. You want food.
You always want food,”
I bend down, give her some leftovers
“You were only fed a few hours ago,” I say.
“No. Not croissants”, she says.
“And certainly not a banana. I’m not a fucking monkey.
I want Stone Baked Ciabatta Loaf with honey.”
She is anything if not specific.
But, of course, we haven’t any.
I drive down to the supermarket, my inner cat
Turning with anticipation.
I get home. Give her some.
She’s satisfied. And so am I.
We both flop on the mattress and have
an afternoon nap.
The cat inside me purrs.
10 thoughts on “The Cat inside Me”
Hi John. It’s about 7:00 AM where I am. I’ll be eating toasted English muffins soon for breakfast. No ciabatta. See you —
Hey! It’s just gone 8.30 pm here and I’m not thinking ciabatta BUT I will be in the morning; it goes fabulously with honey; and don’t listen to my inner cat, bananas are pretty fine too — but why do they have to be sooo BIG???
get lady finger bananas John, small and sweet, bewdiful!
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thank you, Carolyn; will give them a try 🙂
I’m not a cat person but they continue to amuse me 🙂
just checked; not there yet 😦 have a break from it, Carolyn, and tackle it later with a fresh mind 🙂
I think there is one inside me too. She is asking to be fed yet again….
I forgot all about this one; thanks for enjoying it 🙂