Monsieur Romeo

I wonder

if cats are ever frustrated that they don’t have hands.

Personally, many days I would like a pair of wings.


my cat going to the supermarket.

basket in hand, she scans the produce section,

but makes her way

through the other beasts–that’s us–

to the counter

signed  ‘Fresh Fish’, sniffs the air

and sighs.

She doesn’t like it  raw–

Me taking

her predatory nature and

hiding it in the thicket of her toys.


in the face of humans

I’m  helpless.

I’m helpless and wishing;

wishing I could fly.

Reflection:  This morning on FB I saw someone playing Jenga with their cat.  I was amazed.  Of course, the owner had to put the blocks the cat pushed out with their paw on the top of the tower, but they took turns.  It came to the precarious point on the cats turn.  Annoyed it knocked the two blocks off the top., but the tower didn’t fall over.  So I thought, I wonder if the cat felt the limit of not having hands.  Is consciousness the ability to compare things?  Are we only human in our immense ability to compare things, and if so what are we doing with this gift? I wonder if someone mentally challenged feels the rub.  I remember the autistic child who suddenly could communicate all she was thinking on her computer, but she could not with words.  I sometimes feel that way.

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