A Picture, a Poem, and a Puke Bag

Hey, losers.  It's been a while since I've had my human post here for me.  Deal with it.

Me and Boba

Talk about sentimental C-R-A-P.  My male human wrote this poem about me years ago.  Before he met my female human, even.  Read it and weep.  No, really.  Read it and bawl your frickin' eyes out, you pathetic morons.


Orangey (January 15, 2003)

Fellow of small stature
Enjoys our space;
Makes the flat fuller.
Narrow shape in a wide window
Struts as Aslan through his kingdom;
Kills because he can.
Creature of my bed foot
Pleasantly penetrates my soul;
Thinks he’s playing.
Big-hearted littleness
Launches love from a bookshelf;
Laughs inside himself.
Tiny boy, little friend,
Orangey
Rests a paw on my bristle-chin
And sighs his reply,
“You’re welcome.”


Oh, brother.  And I thought tuna made me vomit.  Get outta my way, people, and find me a puke bag!