Death becomes a cat.

After I watched the poor cat die; after I went in and got a baby blanket to wrap it's now still body in so that perchance should the owner come upon it they would know that someone had cared for it in it's last minutes; after I went back inside and cried and cried about this little soul that I had never known; I was struck with the memory of my young stupid cat, so many years ago.

A cat much like this one, cocky and brave and dumb to have crossed a busy street in the night. His body wrapped up, those many years ago, like this cat is now, in a blanket, and placed kindly on the sidewalk so that he would not be run over again. I can only hope that someone pet him and spoke to him while he died as I did with this 'stranger' cat, I can only hope that he felt safe when he lost all feeling and drifted off to who knows where.

With calm and soothing lies I spoke to this cat, 'it'll be alright' I mustered - knowing that it wouldn't. It's body ached and arched, it's tiny mouth breathing so hard. And in only a few treacherous minutes it released and was gone. Leaving just an empty shell of a cat. I feel like instead of a help I was a grotesque spectator of this cat's very personal and painful demise.

My heart thumps so fast and hurts as I relive the moments in my mind. I felt so helpless, and yet there was nothing I could do. Who would think this tiny creature could phase me so much?

In the moments that passed his body was moved by numerous people, independently of each other, from the edge of the street to the edge of the sidewalk, to the inner part of the sidewalk on a plank of old counter and finally he was covered by a thin plastic to protect his lifeless body from the rain.

Even in death he managed to phase all who passed him and bring a little more humanity to all of us as we reached out to morn and respect the body of a dead stray cat.

I used to write to write

Now I write to remember that I used to write to write.

Poem 3

Old one
Your beautiful lines
Your brilliant song
You in the way you laugh and love
truly you tickle my life
come back to me

Poem 2

Don't listen to it.
The this, the that.
Just the same old shit
To make the sweet tomorrow last
Like hope in tears
and remembered past.

Poem 1

Magnetic woman

See it, believe it
Flick her on.
A lifetime asleep cannot hold this down
A yesterday here, and always gone
You'll love the way tomorrow was wrong.

It's ok to be Gay!

'"Let me tell you a funny story" she began. Seemed innocent enough....

I sat there at the 'family bbq' dedicated not to the purpose of getting the family together but instead (admittedly by my mother-in-law) as a way to 'get the babies together' (who are both under 8 months old and could care less about anything other then shitting and sleeping). I sat there and listened carefully to the 'funny story' about how this woman's 8 year old is doing the funniest and cutest thing these days...he is not kissing his step-father goodnight anymore because he says 'that's Gay!'.

Sigh.

I have held my tongue long enough at these ridiculous moments that I am forced to endure. Usually I would simply do the always popular fake laugh and then change the subject, but not this time. No, this time I was tired of the homophobic and racist comments that are so easily used, and used all too often I might add (if not every time), as humorous anecdotes by these people. I didn't attack, but instead simply said "You should have told him it's okay to be Gay!"

The entire backyard went silent.

Poor Kevin feeling the discomfort of the crowd chimed in with "Um, yeah, you know, cause gay means happy!" To which I simply said "yes it does, and it also means homosexual - and it is okay to be a homosexual, in fact it's great."

My mother-in-law may now start reconsidering whether getting the babies together is worth me coming along!

In fact, I'm tempted to throw the image below on a t-shirt and wear it to the next "family bbq". Uncomfortable much?

;)

Is this your piece of crap?

I don't know why, or even how someone keeps putting this piece of crap in my side lane. At first I thought it was a mistake, by the second time I thought it was a joke, the third time I was sure someone was trying to make me go crazy, the fourth time was really the tip of the iceberg - at that point I started guarding the alley and wondering how much it would cost to set up a hidden camera!

The worst part is that there was no effort made in keeping the whole thing quiet - you could literally hear the desk/counter/whatever the fuck it is being slammed down in the alley - alas I was never fast enough to catch the culprit in action! This is the real problem with nursing a baby ;)

In any case - if this your piece of crap then well done. You made me crazy for a few days. You managed to slip it in to the alley (without trying to be quiet) whenever I was unable to catch you. But for fucks sake - take your piece of crap back now!!

Shit.

The truth about 4 year olds

Like kittens into cats, puppies into dogs - babies will eventually turn into the dreaded 4 year old.

If you do not have children yet, or perhaps are simply the parents of a darling baby - then this is your warning. Between the ages of 3 and a half and 5, namely '4', you will spend some of that time wondering how you gave life to a small, mean, vindictive, loud, stubborn, overly sensitive, hyper active, and apparently deaf to all adults - child.

Any honest parent will tell you that there are some days they just can't stand their kids. 4 year olds are the tip of the iceberg, le piece de résistance, and the combination of both adorable and evil, try to make sense of that. The harder they are to deal with the 'cuter' in turn they get. Not at the same time mind you - they are not awful and cute at the exact same time...no, no, no. They are only cute at the most perfect moments, they wait till you are at your breaking point - the point where you reconsider your stance on spanking...they wait till then and bust out with "Sowy Mumma, I wuv you, now gimme a hug."


So here it is...the truth about 4 year olds:

4 year olds give a whole new life to the word "poo".

4 year olds can't hear rules or direction...they really actually can't hear it.

4 year olds must do it all "by myself".

4 year olds need help with everything!

4 year olds mean well, most of the time....some of the time...........every once and a while.

4 year olds know all the right buttons to push - and LOVE pushing buttons (both real and emotional)

4 year olds love pooing poo poo jokes, diarrhea jokes and any opportunity to say vagina or penis.

4 year olds give the best hugs, unless they are from behind...where it's more of a strangulation thing.

4 year olds must ask the same question a million trillion zillion times.

4 year olds stutter. A lot.

4 year olds will always admit to farting, even if they didn't do it.

4 year olds love poo and pee and bum bums.

4 year olds like to smell markers and draw all over themselves. Invest in washable everything.

4 year olds will stay well behaved till you specifically ask them not to do something - at which time they will immediately do that which you asked them not to do. Immediately.

4 year olds will blame you if you do and blame you if you don't.

Yes, these tiny terrors are everywhere, they are your children, your friend's children, your neighbours kids and they will find you and ruin part of your day somehow or another.

Ever see a four year old kick some random passer by? I have. And it ain't pretty.

The adorable 4 year old is a force to be reckoned with....and they are out there, just waiting to lure you in with their cutesy pie ways. You have been warned.