Animals

Aubade @ Corked

Yesterday, Corked Wine Boutique in Fredericton, NB, was the scene of a creative writing reading (Sunday, 26 March, 2016) for two writing groups: Fictional Friends and Wolf Tree. A reception was held in order to celebrate award winning writers from these two groups and about 25-30 people, group members and family friends, were present. I would like to thank all those who made this event possible. A special thank you, in alphabetical order, to Ana, David, Jane, and Neil, for making me feel welcome in what was for me a new environment. And a great big thank you to Charlotte, for allowing us to read in Corked.

For my contribution, I read Fear of the Hawk and followed it up, in a second reading, with the three poems that appear below.

Three Poems

Aubade

The crows in the garden complain of the cold,

cawing from their look-out points

with short, sharp calls.

A life of ease they seem to live,

but when the mercury descends and water freezes

icy blinds inside our window panes and snow-

squalls bluster in from north and west,

who knows what’s best for those poor birds

aloft in their crow’s nest spars,

sailing snow’s seas,

steadfast in their skippering of wind-bent trees?

This Arctic cold is such

that neither man nor beast can love it much,

crouched close to whatever warmth there is,

shivering in the wind’s cold touch.

Fore-shadowing

Yesterday, a dozen crows pecked at salt grains

scattered over the road.

A black-clad chorus, they rejoiced

when sunshine drew the white-tailed deer,

from winter depths of banked up snow.

Not long ago she was alive;

now she lies stiff and broken.

Soon she’ll be picked up by workmen,

dumped, and forgotten.

Stars drift hidden through the sunny sky.

What magic spell invokes what beginnings?

To what end do we prolong our days?

What myth,

this fairy-tale I call my life?

Driving Home

Driving home from the hospital,

bullied by fierce winds

on a snow-packed road,

I dream as I drive.

I envision a past

that never was, a future

that may never be.

As I hibernate in that past,

last summer’s flowers

flourish in my mind.

The car skids into a snow bank

and my world shakes in shock.

A thirty wheeler rumbles by:

there are so many ways to die.

Obsidian’s Edge 15

3:00 pm

Old Woman
@
Dainzú

Sandpaper wind
polishing the land
erasing its identity
as barefoot
over dust and stone
the old woman
feasts her heart
on a banquet of song.

A rag-bag her body
stitched together
by memories and bone.

She shows me fear
in these grey shadows
dancing their dust
beneath carved rocks.

Abandoned now,
visited only by ghosts,
this resurrected ball park.
Buried beneath their stones
its heroes,
the men who wooed her.

I look at carved faces.

Which one captured
her flowering heart,
pierced it with an arrow,
and scarred her name
forever
letter by letter
on the face of this rock
?

Obsidian’s Edge 14

2:45 pm

Old Woman
@
Dainzú

Dusty paths
meander beneath
a drifting sun.

Shiftless ruins
cloak the land
in worn-out
shadow rags.

IMG0072_1 2.jpg

Scrawny cattle
herded by an old man
and his sly-eyed dogs:

the old woman,
threatened,
stoops and picks up
a handful of stones.

Moving targets:
dust and shadows of dust.
So much stone and sand
sifted through the hand
and trodden underfoot.

In the distance,
a low mound
covered with grass and weeds:

her family’s ancestral home,
its bountiful community
abandoned to the wilderness,
to the wild thorn
thrusting its spear
through her mortal heart.

Weed-filled walls,
empty houses, ruined fields.

Wise old woman
with her hands full of stones:

that first rock
freed from her fist
booms thunder
off the sheep
in a wolf-skin’s
cowardly frame.

Hare and Pair

Hare and Pair
With photos
by
Clare

“Hare is the Lord of all he surveys and none can dispute his right … ”

Some do, mind, in spite of hare’s propaganda, for moose, raccoon, deer, Northern Goshawks, owls, and the neighborhood dogs, though these are usually kept on a leash, all make eyes at hare as he sits there, on the edge of the lawn, seemingly unafraid.

Hare can run. He can run very fast. He thinks he is the fastest there is. So he just sits there.
“I AM the fastest,” he boasts, and none can gainsay him.

Chipmunk knows he’s not the fastest. Mind you, he’s not that slow either, over short distances. Chipmunk is fast, but he’s also very, very cautious.

“”Is the coast clear?” he asks.”I’ll just pop my head out and have a little look.”

“Coast’s clear, dear. Heave ho, and out I go.”

“No one about. Weather looks nice. I’ll just go for a little run.”

“Off I go. Won’t be long, dear.”

“I’ve found something nice, dear. Some fresh new bedding. I’ll bring it home.”

“I’m on the way, dear. Pop that kettle on. Stretching like a long dog: I’ll soon be home.”

“Oh darn it! Forgot the groceries. I’ll have to go out again.”

“Wow! Some nice little goodies stuffed in my cheeks!”

“Hello, dear. I’m back. Give us a kiss.”
“Come in then. Kettle’s boiled. We’ll have a nice cup of tea.”

It will soon be all quiet on the southern front. The chipmunks have all gone. But the hare just sits and likes to stare. So he’s still there.

If a picture tells a thousand words,
this photo essay is 12,280 words long.

Bistro 1 Flash Fiction

Babs

It was March the First, St. David’s Day.

Babs held the cat in her arms. The vet slipped the needle into the shunt he had inserted into the animal’s paw and the tiny wind of life gusted from the cat’s fragile body. The struggle ceased. The cat’s head settled and her tongue protruded, just a little, in that beloved and well-known gesture. It was all over.

Babs had found that lump, hard, but smaller than a pea, on New Year’s Day. The next day, she carried the cat to the vet where they took blood samples and ran tests. The vet’s assistant called later that afternoon. A lymphoma, she said, small but deadly. Steroids might help. They would give the cat a 40% chance at a life that would get more difficult, in spite of any known treatment. The alternative was to bring her back in and put her down now, that very afternoon. Babs looked at the cat: highlights strayed through her fur and her bright eyes sparkled like sunshine on a lake.

Throughout January the steroids went in and the cat glistened and grew fat. At first, Babs saw no sign of the lump but by Robbie Burn’s Day it was back. Babs started to count the days: January 31, February 2. The lump grew larger.

Three years before, on Valentine’s day, Babs had salvaged the cat from the SPCA where she languished, abandoned in a cage. The cat was a stray, half feral, taken in from the streets and subject to who knows what sort of treatment and feeding in its infancy. Babs wondered if it was in those days of neglect that the cancerous seed took root? Or did those seeds come later, when the cat wandered the garden and fed off the wild life, mice and voles, and drank from the streams that flowed through the killing fields with their fertilizers, their weed killers, their nutrients, and their poisons?

“What are we doing to ourselves,” Babs wondered as she sat at the kitchen table and sipped a cup of tea. “Was my cat the canary in my coalmine, doomed to warn me of what’s to come? Will my own system be invaded then poisoned with cancerous growths? Will I be subject to that stumbling, downward road that leads in the end to an inevitable death?”

She lay awake that night alone in the bed wondering in what ways cancer might ravage her body. How long would chemotherapy keep her alive? Who would be there for her, who would hold and comfort her, who would slip that releasing needle into her veins when her time came?

Babs ran her fingers over her body as she imagined herself sliding day by day down that slippery slope that leads to the grave. Then she caught her breath, her heart raced, and her blood turned to ice as her fingers tripped against the colony of killers: three small hard lumps that nested in her soft breast.

K9

I had a little doggy and my doggy loved me,
I fed my little doggy on cookies and tea.
My little doggy had a very sweet tooth
and when he needed feeding he went woof, woof, woof.

One day my little doggy fell down and died.
Something had broken in his inside.
I wanted another doggy but my wife said “No!
I’m not cleaning up the floor when he wants to go.”

I Googled an e-dog and found one on E-bay.
E-dogs are nice and clean, that’s what they say.
They make you smile and take away your frown
and they’ll sit and guard the car when you go to town.

Now I’ve got an e-dog and he’s very, very nice.
I wind him up each day and recharge him twice.
My wife loves my e-dog and she also loves me
because my e-dog needs no feeding and he doesn’t go pee.

Teddy Bears and Kitty Cats

Five reasons why a Teddy Bear is much better for you than a Kitty Cat.
I know, I know: cat lovers will go wild. They think cats are such lovely cuddly things. And they believe strongly that nobody can resist a warm, loving, darling, purring bundle of fur.

Well, I can. And I can give you five good, sound, solid, 25 carat reasons why Teddy Bears beat Kitty Cats any day of the week.

One
Teddy Bears do not need to be fed on a regular basis. In fact, one piece of kibble will last a Teddy Bear for a very, very long time. And you can’t say the same for your cat. So less expense, no need to feed, don’t have to put that fresh water down every day, no constant fawning attention when hungry or just plain greedy, don’t have to worry about treading on the cat’s tail … In fact, a Teddy Bear wins out every time.

Two
“Don’t mention cleaning out the kitty litter. Promise?”
“I promise. I won’t mention it.”
“Word of honor?”
“Word of honor. Fresh Walnut and all that.”
“You just mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what?”
“The kitty litter.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did: you said ‘Fresh walnut.'”
“So?”
“So that’s what keeps the kitty litter from smelling.”
“Does it smell much?”
“Quite a bit. I hate cleaning it out.”
“Why?”
“It’s so smelly, filthy, grainy, lumpy, stinking …”
“So, why do you do it, then? What you need is a nice, clean, environmentally friendly Teddy Bear. There’s no cleaning up after a Teddy Bear. Who’s ever heard of Teddy Bear Litter?”
“You said you wouldn’t mention it.”
“Mention what?”
“Kitty litter.”
“I didn’t, you did.”

SORRY.
NO PICTURE AVAILABLE OF CAT IN KITTY LITTER CLOVER BOX.
Nor of Teddy Bear playing in Sand Box.

Three
Teddy Bears don’t have off-spring. You don’t need to neuter them, and they don’t need taking to the vet. Nor did they sit and wait in family groups for their photos to be taken. What we have below is a fake photo placed there by the unscrupulous enemy for their own pro-cat propaganda purposes.

Empress 048.jpg

Four
Teddy Bears are very obedient. If you tell a Teddy Bear to “sit” or to “stay”. He does so. Immediately. And he stays where you put him. There’s no clash of wills and egos, no conflict at all. Teddy Bears are easily trained and very obedient. Also, they don’t want to go out in the garden and wander beneath the bushes to shriek and whine when the moon is full. Now, if you have cats and you want them to sit and stay still, you must give them something to watch or to play with.

Chipmunks and garden birds aren’t cheap, you know, and they are less trainable than cats. How long do you think it takes to train a chipmunk to just sit there quietly to entertain your cat? Especially when it’s being hissed at and the cat is bouncing the window with anguish?

Also, Teddy Bears don’t climb on furniture, nor do they break ornaments, nor sink their claws into your hair as you pass beneath them, nor do they drop on you, unexpectedly, from great heights.

kiki and butterfly 075.jpg

Five
Five and finally, when there’s a moth, a fly, or a mosquito on the ceiling at night, you can’t train your kitty cat to fly into the air and snatch it off the ceiling. But as for Teddy: grab him by one leg, preferably the back one; give him his commands “Ready, Teddy, Go!” and hurl him skywards. With a little practice, he’ll nail that nocturnal buzzing monster every time.
No: all things considered — and I promise I won’t mention, you know what, that little box the cat sits in — there’s nothing better than a Teddy Bear.Wise, silent, friendly, cuddly, obedient, friendly (did I say that?), needs no training, always there when needed, waits patiently for you when you’re away, never stalks off with tail in air, never gets out and hides in the garden where you can’t find him, adorable, cuddly (did I say that already?) …

…
Give me a Teddy Bear anytime.

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