The cat Who writes™

A cat Who writes about life and being a cat.

Charlie wants to join the circus

Charlie wants to join the circus. He wants to be a tight rope walker. I suppose I should let him.

I don’t have any children. I never married and I was fixed as a young kitten. I was raised by a single mother. Her husband, my father, abandoned my mother after she became pregnant with me and my sister. We were taken to a shelter and raised there until we could find families that needed a cat to run their lives.

How to be a cat

I know you secretly wish you were a cat. You hate shaving your face or your legs. You hate waking up early. Your life feels rushed. You have just enough time to shove a doughnut in your face and then drive to work. You spend your life paying bills, cutting the lawn, washing dishes, doing the laundry, changing diapers, pretending to like your neighbours, and entertaining people you don’t really like.

You spend your life working for someone else.
In the summer you take a few days off to sleep in, or go camping with your children and mosquitoes.

You really want to be a cat.

Take care of The Bottom Line

I am guest posting today at Mrs. Hodges blog, i paint i write. I think she must be tired from painting black lines on long underwear. She really shouldn’t leave projects until the last-minute. It is a bad habit. (Mrs. Hodges is my typist.)

What is your morning routine?

Do you have a morning routine? I have a routine. When I wake up, I stretch, then I take a bath and use the litter box. After I have a drink of water I sit with Mrs. Hodges and I dictate my stories to her. Then I go outside and patrol the property line.

I wrote a Clerihew today.

Yesterday I met a really nice writer. He is a person not a cat. His name is Paul.

Paul who writes at birds and trees of the mind, introduced the poetic form clerihew yesterday. The clerihew was invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. I wonder what they would have called the poetic form he invented if his middle name was Catnip?

Sometimes you have to cry

For the past two weeks I have gotten up early with my senior staff member, Mrs. Hodges. She is my typist. I patiently waited for her to listen to me. I dictate. She types. But she has been too busy writing her own stories. She has not typed any of my stories. I am sad.