Hello Harold, I just got back from visiting your web site, and I liked it a lot. I can't believe that you did not get the Diaz part...it could be a real "Payne and Diaz" to explain it!
I see that you are a cat person...well, I have written a poem which evolved into a very funny but short childrens' book. I am looking for a publisher. I'd like you put the poem on your page, with the other cat and dog material, to get others' comments. Hope you are interested...here goes.
Cats are far, far better than dogs as everybody knows.
They would never destroy the furniture, they would never attack one's toes.
Why, on any city corner just look and you will find
a careful, vigilant guidecat, faithfully leading the blind.
Afar up in the frozen north, where it's leventy-seven below,
man depends upon the catsled to get where he must go.
If buried in an avalanche with no way to get free,
the rescue cat will dig you out, as quickly as can be.
At night, if to one's house should come, a prowler meaning harm
The ever attentive watchcat will be sure to sound the alarm.
And should there be a jailbreak, then the nose of the hardy bloodcat
Will pick up the scent of the reprobate and catch him just like that!
Yes, cats are far better than dogs, as everybody knows...
They would never destroy the furniture.
They would never attack one's toes.
Comments, kudos, slings and arrows to: firstname.lastname@example.org
I am enjoying your homepage. I too have a great interest in cats. We presently have 2 inside cats and 3 outside cats. The are clearly part of our family. I could tell their stories for hours, but instead, please let me show you how all cats feel deep in their hearts:
My home is where my feet touch
My bed is what's under me when I'm sleepy
My food is anything that tastes good.
My friends are whom I choose.
The night is my safety, the day is my warmth.
I'm proud but not vain. Simple things delight me.
I love to be loved, but love when I choose.
I adapt very quickly, but prefer my routine.
I am curious to a fault.
I am beautiful, and I'm clean, and I know it.
My soft voice can comfort, my anger is clear.
I practice my agility so none can compare.
I am what I am, and I would be no other,
I am cat! And that's that!
by Greg Moore
Alaska cats don't take no crap.
They don't sit in no one's lap.
They don't let you brush their fur
Or have cute names like Gulliver.
They mumble but they seldom purr.
Alaska cats are three feet tall.
They drink beer and play pinball.
And you may notice when they call,
They don't wash themselves at all,
Just once in the spring and once in the fall.
Alaska cats are always dressed
In jeans and boots and outdoor vest.
It's not stuffed with eiderdown
But hair from dogs around the town -
Some black, some brown.
Once a year to hold off famine
They jump in the boats and they fish for salmon
Slap those big fish with their paws
Catch 'em, bone 'em, and then toss
'Em in a pan with catsup sauce.
Alaska cats chew catnip snoose1
And spit about anywhere they choose.
The freest cat you ever saw.
They have no owners, no leash law -
They laugh at pet cats. Ha, Ha - Ha, Ha - Ha, Ha.
&Copy; 1996 by Garrison Keillor
1Slang for snuff or chewing tobacco -- thanks to a reader for the info!
I love your cat stuff. Here are a couple of my poems, are they fit for the cat page?
Tis foggish, and the Moonlight Mog,
Steals stealthily towards the treeline
Then pussy-foots around the bog
In search of fun and frolics feline.
But wait, beware, my macho-mog,
Miss Mew has claws that scratch and scrawl!
And shun old Monster-Mut the dog,
Who skulks beneath her garden wall.
That fiercesome Dobermanly beast
Guards poor Miss Mew with gruesome growl,
He'll grind your bones in grubsome feast!
But Mog leaps up with scaresome scowl.
"That caddish cur, I'll ruff his scuff
And pack his pooch in Kitty-litter,
He's dogged my paw-prints long enough",
Yowls Mr. Mog, that witty critter.
And straight he stromps with snip-snap jaws
To mug that mut in gruesome brawling,
The air is filled with loathsome roars
And growling wailing caterwauling.
Till Monster-Mut yells "Help, please stop!"
As he, that dreadful drooling doggins
Is crushed , with one karate chop,
And falls, beneath the wrath of Moggins.
Oh purrfect day, hip hip hurray,
Miss Mew, delighted, spits a spat,
And in her frenzy spews her spay,
"Come to my arms, Mognificat!,
You zapped that monster with one blow,
A nobler Mog was never born!"
And wimpy pooch, with tail hung low,
Slopes fast away, across the lawn.
Tis muggy, but Miss Mew and Mog
Sit paw in paw, a perfect match,
They snogg and snuffle in the fog,
Then make out, in the briar patch
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll)
Furry and fine
A delicate feline
With little white paws.
But there on the mat
With the stolen roast beef
In her pearly white teeth
She could subjucate Jaws!
Doreen Ayre, Middle Cove, Newfoundland, 1997
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