Pet Monologues

You never feed me.
Perhaps I’ll sleep on your face.
That will sure show you.

You must scratch me there!
Yes, above my tail!
Behold, elevator butt.

The rule for today:
Touch my tail, I shred your hand.
New rule tomorrow.

In deep sleep hear sound
cat vomit hairball somewhere
will find in morning.

Grace personified.
I leap into the window.
I meant to do that.

Blur of motion, then –
silence, me, a paper bag.
What is so funny?

The mighty hunter
Returns with gifts of plump birds –
your foot just squashed one.

You’re always typing.
Well, let’s see you ignore my
sitting on your hands. Read the rest of this entry »

FREDERICK:

A bird flew in my ass today. Yeah. I was sitting down in Central Park, just relaxing and reading the newspaper. I felt fine.

Then all of a sudden, SWOOP, right in my ass…a bird. A tiny bird the size of, oh, I don’t know, the size of my palm. Really tiny, really tiny. Just flew right in my butt, without any explanation.

What did I do? I’m getting to that. It’s not everyday that a bird scoops down at a million miles per hour and seeks shelter up in your private region. Am I right?

Let me continue…

I stand up for obvious reasons and I proceed to wiggle my buttocks but nothing. The bird won’t come out and I could feel it’s heartbeat pulsating. Strangest feeling, let me tell you. So I try walking it off…still, nothing. Stubborn bird. I started doing jumping jacks, nothing. I began skipping, nothing. I started running up a hill and back down a hill, nothing. I dropped my draws and dipped my ass into the pond, nothing. I went so far as to climb over a fence and start scraping my bum across the grass, rocks and dirt in order to free the fellow, like a dog scrapes it’s behind on a rug. You’ve seen that right? But still to no avail, nothing. The bird stayed deep inside, clinging to the walls of my darkest of holies. Read the rest of this entry »

They said I’d get turtles if I kept the pieces
of broken streetlights in warm water.
So I put the magic shards in a bucket
in the basement and spent the evening in a vigil.
Down and up the stairs, changing the water
and keeping the powerful fragments
at an encouraging temperature.
I was old enough—ten–to know better,
but hope was stronger than sense.

It got late, time for bed.
The water would get cold during the night.
And that’s when I knew this precarious act
of spontaneous generation wasn’t going to work.
My need for sleep was stronger
than my need for turtles.

Lucia Blinn

Poetry and art by Meghna, age 12.

Once a little bird
Fell from the air
Lying near my feet
It was a sight of despair

Seeing it’s poor condition
Pity dwelled in my heart
“Oh dear birdie, don’t worry
For you care, I’ll impart”

I took him gently
In my hands
And carried him over
To my Aunt Mands

Oh sweety, you’ve
Done a great job
I’m sure your Uncle
Would love it after I mob

I’m sure he’d say it’s good
You can come after a while
You and Uncle can eat it
After he comes from his walk of a mile!

More about Meghna.

This might seem a little off topic but towards the end George mentions “pets” so PM thinks this is right on topic! A dose of year-end wisdom.

Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we’re kids? If you’re less than 10 years old, you’re so excited about aging that you think in fractions.

“How old are you?” “I’m four and a half!” You’re never thirty-six and a half. You’re four and a half, going on five! That’s the key!!

You get into your teens, now they can’t hold you back.

You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead.

“How old are you?” “I’m gonna be 16!” You could be 13, but hey, you’re gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life . . . you BECOME 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony. YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!! Read the rest of this entry »

Caw to art! is an effort to showcase pets and animals in an ARTFUL manner. A photograph, fine art, a scribble, sculpture. A poem, a monologue, a short story, motion.

Submissions
Resonant Enigma submits Meh-heh-heh
Tom Varisco Designs submits “Berlin”
Herbert Murrie submits “Birds of Paradise”
Pet Monologues submits Red Wolf: Dog named Balto
Studio@OneZeroCharlie submits Rural Records
vat19.comslashblog submits Curiously Awesome Cat Man (art of cat training)
Movie Cat submits Dan in Real Life
Pet Monologues finds Frootbat Friday at Dragonheartsdomain
Pet Monologues submits WaMu WoOf!
Keir Royale submits Pet don’t always win prizes
Resonant Enigma submits Warm Belly

Berlin

Birds of Paradise

Dragonheart

Still steeping…

…in the meantime. Questions? Comments? Editor’s note: please look at Comment 1 below for more C2a! details…

and while you are curating your submissions don’t forget Friday Ark roster for this weekend. And Carnival of the Cats which goes up every Sunday next hosted by Pet’s Garden Blog this 11/18.

by Lucia Blinn

A body on the beach as long as my arms are wide.
Large glassy eyes crossed and staring in disbelief.
A family of round white barnacles
fastened to his hard brown hide.
Yellow marks like graffiti.
Paws outstretched. Tail too.
Poised to crawl but not crawling.
The tough old tortoise was never
meant to be seen like this.
Nor was he meant to be scooped
by the sand patrol who hauled him away
on an otherwise beautiful day.

About the author: Lucia Blinn

TGIF.
Check out the Friday Ark roster for this weekend. And Carnival of the Cats which goes up every Sunday and this weekend hosted by Justin’s Random Thoughts.

This post celebrates World Animal Day and Bless the Animals. Follow the links to learn more about PM’s initiative which started on October 4.

Clever doesn’t begin to describe
the canny soul who, for nearly seventeen
years, walked and wagged among us,
affecting the affect of the duke of all dogdom,
a dachshund, but who, in fact,
worked the world like a room and got mail.

Sly his disguise as this most glorious
of canines; peerless, flawless, albeit
not immune to vanity–that ravishing red coat.

The question remains: Who was Harvey?
Moses back with a bark?
The Babe without a bat?
Gandhi with a growl?
MR. PRESLEY?

Come on, Harvey, speak!
We know you’re up there emailing.

Written by Lucia Blinn

I admit, when I encounter a pet snake of say 24-36″ inches in length, a lot of thoughts cross my mind. The movie Anaconda for one. But each time, after awhile, the snake grows on me. Not that I would ever get one for a pet. For sure, not now.

Emerald tree boa

A story told by a veterinarian:

“This Lady had this kink with exotic animals, and some years ago she bought a boa, and she let the boa slither around the house all the time. There were no problems; every day Snakey had insects for lunch, and when she grew up, some mice… a nice life indeed for a boa.

“However, after a year or so, Snakey started to present an odd behavior. At night, she would crawl besides her master’s bed and stiffen as if she was in pain. The Lady would then try to console her, to no use. The boa kept getting tenser and tenser, until she was rigid as a baseball bat and completely straight. After a few hours, Snakey would relax and slither normally. Read the rest of this entry »

While reading one of my fave magazines I stumble upon an article that pet lovers would enjoy. This article was taken out of Wired Magazine and titled “A Canine Hotel May Sound Luxe, but There’s No Place Like Home”

***

Room Z5 is empty except for a faux-suede floor pillow, a 14-inch flatscreen TV, an IP network camera, and a 9-pound miniature pinscher sitting motionless by the steel door. After a few minutes, the pooch gets up, walks across the room, and settles on the pillow, almost covering the white letters that spell out w-a-g. Kitschy dance music wafts in from the hallway. A dog yelps in the background.

Illustration by Jessica Hische

Wag is a new pet hotel in San Francisco that promises the ultimate in canine luxury. It has an atmospheric-filtration system that recycles the facility’s air 10 times per hour. Temperature-controlled rooms remain at a comfortable 69 degrees Fahrenheit. The suites ($85 a night) even have “Wag Cams,” accessible from an Internet browser, so that curious or concerned owners can check on their furry companions.

Tonight I’ve booked my dog, Ruby, into Wag. I scheduled her for an in-room belly massage ($12), a moonlit walk on the antibacterial Astroturf rooftop ($15), and room service (one pig’s ear and a bowl of water). This should be a great night—I’ll have the evening off from my dog-parenting duties, and Ruby will make new friends and be pampered by Wag’s experienced staff. Read the rest of this entry »