Old Enough
I get up early cause I know Pearl will make biscuits, eggs, and crisp bacon and let me lick the warm salty lard with my fingers from the skillet once it cools off. I watch her go "mmmm, mmmm" and squeeze her lips into a smile. She starts the percolator for Paw-Paw, pours me a big glass of ice cold milk and stands over me saying, "drink it down." Pearl always makes hard things seem easy, not so good days feel okay and I wish she were my Momma. We don't look the same but if she asked me to be her child I'd be the luckiest girl alive. She pulls my fingers out of my mouth, " you get worms now, hear me?" I most definitely don't want worms so I am really trying to stop chewing my nails. Pearl's nails are always clean, trimmed, with a clear, shiny gloss. Her lips are full, ripe, like a fresh dark purple plum. She has fine teeth, big hazel eyes and wears tiny gold studs in each earlobe. I want earrings, but the thought of a needle being pushed though my ear doesn't sound like it's worth the trouble, at least right now. I would like some tap shoes though. Pearl laughs when I tell her about my dancing dreams. She says I have happy feet cause I am wiggling my toes all the time. When Paw-Paw goes out on the porch to smoke his pipe I always show him my latest moves. After breakfast, Pearl starts washing our sheets and says there is a dust bunny under my bed. I don't want to look. I scare myself enough just looking at hobos. Anyway, back to the railroad. Just can't help myself. I don't curse, smoke, steal or commit sins that I know of, but I can tell you right here and right now, hobos teach and preach more than any one body needs. I confess I became on friendly terms with a man named Hank. He'd wave and say, " Hey, May! Keep smilin' kiddo!" and he'd sometimes be laying in the shade right calm when I snuck up to see him. He always looked sad just before he caught sight of me. Soon as my big trap started jabbering he'd change like a chameleon. That is, he'd try to make life seem so fine. I new he was hungry. I started taking biscuits on the days I figured he'd be around and he was always obliged. Just like the song, Mr. Bojangles, I began to show off my dancing moves to cheer ole Hank up. How is it we just know someone isn't happy? He laughed and smiled; in my mind he had a harmonica or some groovy steps he'd show me, but he never did. When the rest of the jumpers, as he referred to his fellow train hopping hobos as, came around he'd shoo me off. He told me in a kind, yet tough way to go on home. Where Hank went I never knew; in my heart I liked to hold it was somewhere much better than the hard ass dirt he slept on, full of God only knows what, and lonesome nights with an empty belly and mosquitos. Back home, I'm hosed down. Pearl gives me a hard stare; I am guessing she is guessing where the heck I've been. I am full of cockleburs, red from the sun. She leaves Paw-Paw and me my favourite, whipped cream and orange jello. I always hug her when she heads back to the place she calls home; I will make sure that this summer I follow Pearl like a cat stalks, curious that is, not aiming to find trouble. Late, when Paw-Paw is loving his heap of second helpings from supper, I ease out from my bedroom and stand right in front of the late night news. Paw-Paw's old Grandpa eyes widen and I start dancing; I pretend to tap dance and point my toes toward the ceiling fan, clap my hands and fall onto the thick, Persian patterned carpet. Paw-Paw laughs with his belly bouncing. I guess for now, summer is getting off to a good start. I slink down the long hallway and slither into bed. I wonder where Hank is now; Memphis, Baton Rouge, New Orleans? By now, hobos, I mean, jumpers, could be anywhere. I say out loud as if I am praying, "Goodnight jumper Hank; goodnight Pearl". I wiggle my toes one more time, roll over toward the moon shining through my window and smile.
Comments (26)
I agree with L.C. Would give other cats a run for their money!
Ahh, she is the cattest cat!
The true nature of felinekind.
She looks lovely and also mischievous. Nice poem.
“Then on clean clothes her butt is sat.” That line is so relatable to pet owners!
Oo ooo. I know your next piece, for Whodunit. It was nice knowing you Cathy I just don’t know yet how Abigail is going to pin your demise in someone else and get away with it. 🤣 Love your Villanelle 🥰
😆☺️👍 thanks for sharing your cat with us in villanelle Cathy!
This was such a fun and uplifting piece Cathy! I'd be surprised if there were any cat owners who didn't get a good chuckle after reading this.. thank you for sharing!
Abigail sounds almost exactly like my neighbors cat.
Abigail never fails to entertain us. I guess they are just like us, the two faces of Eve. Sweet/Devil. Hugs to Abigail, I mean, she gets her own villanelle.
As good as gold and still an Ass…..you nailed our cat perfectly. A great laugh after holiday craziness
Oh, I love that cute little asshole face 🤣 Your Abigail poems are always so charming! Wonderful job, my friend 🤗
Great Job Cathy, Cheecky to borrow a word and fun. Reading all these stories about Abigail have drawn me to the conclusion she is a wonderful cat
Cleverly done... accurate depiction of 'nice' cats... sweet & comforting & in the next instant... naughty and dangerous! (Spoken by a dog lover!) Abigail looks full of life!
What a sweet little golden asshole! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 I suddenly remembered when she kept making noise to be let out but when you opened the door, she walked away in the opposite direction! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
😂 Great job Cathy!
It had to be, excellent work and congratulations on your forthcoming Top Story
bahahaha....I love cats, but....yes
I love it. My cats can be assholes, too, but I wouldn't have it any other way! 😉😸
🤣... and quite the celebrity cat these days! ❤️
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Fantastic!!! ROTFL!!!❤️❤️💕
So funny! hahahahahaha
This was so funny !!!! !Got to Love Abigail!!!!!
😂 😂 😂 Abigail! She totally deserved a villanelle! Love it! My kid-in-a-hair-suit puts her ass on my clean clothes too. So gross given her bathroom habits- no tp and all... 😂 perfect tribute!