Cheeky Missy
Hear Ye, Hear Ye.....
October 29th is BOTH: #nationaloatmealday AND #nationalcatday whence these...
We are.
Um, Yeah, We\'re Very Sensible, We Are
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXC)
Rye toast, eggs, bacon, naught else for intents
Save guac for me, and raspb\'rry jam t\'avail
Him, breakfast fairly light, it\'s that detail
Of bacon and the cats which begs defense,
Since they did steal his brie(where I\'d sans sense
Left it out with his cuppa tea sans bail
To showr) and he was not too happy, they\'ll
Be scanted as I covered his food. Whence?
They won\'t touch mine. So he must as it were
Give me dear Peter\'s sob tale til I rue
What? Eat but half my bacon, then give her
None, just to Peter. He then gives his too,
And gives his other slice to Tigger. Poor
As nary bacon, LORD, how I thank You.
29Aug25b
It\'s so fun to have cats eating out of your hand.
Of Tea, or Brie, and Balls (With Bells, Mind You)
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCXCII)
Wash up their bowls, refill, and then, defense:
Put on the kettle for yes, Barry\'s. (Hail
My lack of sense in crafting that.) Detail
It with a wedge of brie which they share hence.
Yes, Tigger\'s post is in my lap fr\'intents,
And Peter\'s on the floor; she hooks sans bail
My hand whenas she wants a bite t\'avail,
Til he gives up, to wander off from thence.
The \"kitty kurls\" toy they\'ve worn out in tour,
And she thinks that the ball is hers. I do
Not quite agree, and after letting her
Extract it three times, I hide it. Where to?
She\'s moping since. Yes, hiding off in poor
\'Scuse til, what shall I do? LORD, I need You.
29Aug25d
Really, you think so, eh?
She Says THIS is Beyond Mischievous
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCC)
How Tigger\'s waiting, looking out from hence
When I get to our gate, their joy to scale
At my return, ecstatic. I\'ll avail
Them of fresh food and water in defense,
Put on the kettle and steep Barry\'s thence,
To fall asleep whilst brewing. That detail
Wreckt, Peter won\'t have brie til Tigger\'d hail
The chance, his pleasure in the twain\'s joy? Whence?
He\'ll give up early, then come back when her
Taste seems nigh sated, til she comes back too.
Why does that not suffice? Why climb in tour
The screen? Dig up my few plants? Paw on through
One pot til dirt\'s ALL OER? Come, what is poor?
I\'m too fatigued for mischief. I need You.
01Sep25b
*Cough, cough*
Now When I\'m Old & Grey-Headed
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCCLIX)
Come, porridge, plain and simply, is t\'avail
The fodder of my fathers in aught sense,
A taste of home with all its comforts hence,
As if from ages past, in that detail
Sheer solace to my soul where sorrows\' trail
Is rocky and I falter, scanting thence
Likeas the blind and wounded for defense,
One bite the answer where I\'d ask for bail.
The rich have nary use for it, \'cept fer
Their horses; and despise whom ver\'ly do.
They add sich flavours to theirs til as t\'were
Tis buried, call it \"tasteless,\" nor but rue
This humble fare in essence. Let me stir
Mine oatmeal and seek Thy face, LORD, anew.
24Sep25a