I watched our
neighborhood mascot, that mixed breed, rotund, distinctly orange tom, trot down
some external stairs toward our door. That clamorous beast has been known to
caterwaul at all hours, yowling until our buildings residents bring him
food, water, or both.
I wish we could
allocate more to Fluffy, but my salary cut, resulting from the pandemic, causes
us to repurpose scraps into meals. Besides, I dont enjoy going out in the
rain, or the heat, to deliver munchies to a churlish creature. Although I like
small animals, I am not at all enamored of felines that act as though I am
indentured to them.
Consequently, when a
sunbird confronted that kitty, while I bit my cheeks (so as not to laugh), I
would be untruthful to claim that I didnt find the situation amusing. The
avian was less than one fiftieth Fluffys size, but the cat appeared
I saw Fluffy retreat
from a pocket-sized bird. At first, I wondered why the valiant had had that
reaction since pussy could have easily opened his mouth and then swallowed his
wee adversary in a single gulp. Perhaps, like Mom, he has become wearied of
I then recalled that
the professor of my sophomore level interdisciplinary class, Nihilism in
Europe, claimed that both Nietzsche and Heidegger understood acts attempting to
immobilize lifes meaning as acts fraught with difficulty. Perhaps, Fluffy
not only assigns no significance to the food we leave for him, but, also, finds
no meaning in his entitlement to hunt.
As such, it is no
wonder that he turned away from that songbird, ostensibly retreating from a
readily winnable confrontation with an oscine. In yielding his ground, perhaps,
Fluffy was signaling just how deeply he had cognized our ecosystems lost
Stupid feline! He
ought to have known better than to regard highfliers as snacks. Altogether, our
bionetworks members realize that tabbies are lowlifes relative to us
utilitarian beings who pollinate and sing.
We seek no handouts,
but we improve the environment. Among fauna, we are supreme in our
contributions. That we strive for the common good further evidences our
nincompoops, i.e. feral furries, fail to appreciate our renown. Hence,
its unsurprising, when one of us puffs up its feathers to chase away
those vile critters, that our stratagem works.
I never thought
Id live to see a hummer looking big like me.
Sure, they wrap
their brains in tongues, to be quickly unstrung
With might at
flowers. Such power, though, oughtnt be used
Where moggies rule.
We cant help but drool when thinking of
Chicken dinner, of
gobbling much thinner banquets than repasts
odalisques offer; flyers remain our rightful feasts.
Yet, one untamed,
monstrous fowl, on my prowl, heaved wings
In my face.
Theres no need to discuss why it had to be erased.
Mere morsal from
afar, it jarred me with its unseen corpulence.
No passerine so
grand ever tried to stand down a cultured cat.
Pest patrollers must
not think to flee to escape beaked banshees,
Turn tail on
battered, feathers. No, we must end such endeavors.
Whereas I celebrate
gratis food, human servants, plus grassy leas,
Mines a life,
too, for sifting district trash, sidestepping brashness,
pluck. Fine mousers dont consort among fowls.
We fill our homes
with their bones, fertilize bushes with plumage.
(Its just that
we demur when sprites refuse our rules, those fools!)
After all, as my
territorys apex, I reject those vibrating intruders.