Tag Archives: Animals

Breakfast Sandwich


Breakfast Sandwich

My puppies heed no boundaries. They flop down where they  will.
Coco crowds me, head on shoulder, in my bed until
I need my arm for writing and to gratify my need,
I nudge her very gently, but still, she does not heed

the necessity for space between us on the bed,
so promptly she moves closer to lie on my arm instead.
She appreciates its flavor as she licks it fondly, then,
extends her pastel tongue to lick it all again.

Then Zoe comes to join us from her place down by my hip,
and expresses her love likewise with a little lip.
Then her tongue extends as well so I am doubly tasted.
massaged with love’s caresses until I’m thoroughly basted.

At length, both fall asleep again, their energy depleted,
and our morning’s sandwich is finally completed.
I wedge myself out gently so our sandwiching is done,
extracting my meat from between  its canine bun.


Prompt words for today are boundary, gratify, flavor, likewise, pastel and promptly. It is almost impossible to get photos with one’s arms pinned to the side but this was as close as I could get. 

Culinary Taboos

Culinary Taboos

Hot dogs, tacos, ham on rye
are the ways that I get by.
I don’t like caviar on toast,
and what I really hate the most
are liver, tripe or heart or brains.
These are the things my taste disdains.
I cannot masticate and eat
These things that, think, digest or beat.
The height of what my mouth deplores,
they’re  what my stomach most deplores.
And it has never been my habit
to eat lamb or veal or rabbit,
possibly because it gets
me thinking about former pets
and liaisons with baby creatures
that were very frequent features
in a childhood wherein we
sheltered a menagerie
of magpies, bunnies, kittens, rabbits
that fulfilled my parents’ habits
to collect those orphaned things
that often life presents and brings
to those who notice what is needed
by those abandoned or defeated..
Zippy, Fluffy, Tiger, Poo
were the names of just a few
babies that became our peers
within our formative years,
which is  why I still dispute
eating things so young and cute.
But reasons that I do not eat
any fish or organ meat? 
The answer is succinct and easy.
They just simply make me queazy!

True story? Yes, we really did have a baby raccoon named Zippy and all of these other orphaned animals brought home from the ranch by my father and raised like her own kids by my mother.
And yes, this poem rambles a bit, but for Pete’s sake, look at the prompt words!! Not complaining, just explaining….And that is Zippy up there as an illustration not of a possible cuisine choice, but he was one of our orphaned animal adoptees.

Prompts today are zippy, possible, rye, liaison, height and shelter.

Squirreled Splendor

Squirreled Splendor

Why this crazy diadem so intimately curled?
How quizzical you’ve seen it fit to be completely squirreled.
If I decide to follow suit to don a furry coif,
will you claim a copyright and make me take it off?


Prompt words today are decidediadem,  copyright, quizzical,

Couldn’t Resist Sharing These

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I would have had to have drugged my dogs and kitties to get these clever and funny shots. See more by clicking on the URL below:





He built himself a sanctuary in the old garage
to shelter from his mom’s complaints, his stepfather’s barrage
of insults that he spewed out whenever he drank beer
and his teenage stepson happened to be near.
He frequented the shadows of their viral house.
Took shelter in the attic, quiet as any mouse.
Hid out in the garden in a cave of loam.
Anyplace his stepfather was not became his home.

His meals lacked spice and savor also missing in his mother.
Her meals furnished nutrition, but very little other.
No laughter flavored mealtimes. The food rendered no spice.

He secreted small bits of food—a slice of bread, some rice—
to feed to his companions—a family of mice.
It was worth the beatings that he’d suffered twice
when that man not his father saw him hide away
some morsel in his pocket and said he’d have to pay.

 Raising his fist, he said he would take it from his hide
and gave another beating  to the boy who never cried.
The boy who simply stored it up—kept all of it inside—
bore the abuse stoically and then crept outside
to commune with his real family who lived in wall and  rafter
of the garage he’d made his home, and filled with love and laughter.
They came out at his bidding, swarmed around his feet
to eat a bit of porridge, some carrot or a beet.

Some crackers from his school lunch, some lettuce or a plum,
proved the presence of a heart that otherwise was numb.
Mice frequented his pockets and sat upon his shoulder—
every generation seeming to grow bolder.
They slipped into his mother’s house when she was sound asleep
and crept into those places where he could never creep.
They nestled in her shoes and chewed out all the toes,
severed all her bra straps, gnawed holes in all her hose.

They found the belt the monster man used to beat their friend,
dragged it deep under the bed and chewed it end-to-end.
When they crept into the larder to finish off the pie,
it must have been an accident that the can of lye
spilled into the sugar, pouring out in one fine stream
right into the bowl that would be placed beside the cream
on the breakfast table.  For how could it be
that vermin knew only the man took sugar in his tea?


The prompt words today are sanctuary, garage and nutrition.


No Peaceful Kingdom

No Peaceful Kingdom

The dogs are in the backyard where they don’t molest the cats.
The cats are in the front yard where they monitor the bats
but do not dine on birds because the birds have given up
and all moved to the back yard where the young cats never sup.

The younger cats stay outside and the old cat lives within
and should the outside cats ever escape from where they’ve been,
when they’re inside, they’re  bullies and steal her food and tease her.
Although, since I can’t find a type of cat food that will please her,

it’s no problem for the old cat, yet those cats are getting fat
while every day there seems to be less of the older cat.
True, the older cat is crabby and swats the young cats first,
so it’s hard for me determining which cat is the worst.

I’m tired of these war zones. I wish they’d coexist,
and I wish that I could simply tell them to desist.
Yet with man and other animals, more often you will find 
they can’t exist in harmony with those who aren’t their kind.


Annie the crabby cat woke me up before Ragtag was online today, so they get their own individually prompted poem.  Their prompt was “harmony.” Here’ their link if you want to play along:  https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/23/rdp-sundayharmony/

Chock Full O’ Cats: Four Legged Friends

Click on first photo and arrows to enlarge all.

If given a choice, my cats will always choose a pile. Then when grooming time comes, they never know the difference between them so just groom the closest body within tongue.


For Four Legged Friends.

‘Ssss True

‘Sss True

Ssspartan to the nth degree,
he may be lurking in a tree.
In shape he must exemplify
nature’s attempt to ssssimplify.

(No arms or legs to complicate
his lithe movement through glade or gate.)
Not limited by all those parts
that curtail our stops and starts,

his every motion unimpeded,
his conquestsss easily completed.
Under a rock, he may lie coiled.
In sssswiftness, he cannot be foiled.

Hands and feet may have their uses,
but they may lead to abuses.
Toes can stub and feet may catch
on bumps or stones. They are no match

for a ssssnake’s swift glide and ssssssting.
Limbs are not good for everything!
It’s true, a sssnake would be more harmlesss
if he had not been born armlessss!


My cats had this snake cornered near the kitchen door, proving me wrong  by demonstrating that some footed creatures are a good match for a snake.  Yolanda’s keen eyes brought it to my attention, and between us, we proved to be its friends. KItties were curtailed.  The serpent glided on to sssafety.

The prompt words today are Spartan, limit, glade and exemplify.  Here are the links: