Musings From Pearl
So I thought I would tell you that
cats can indeed, speak
and as much as she hides her smile
Mom isn’t that much of an enigma
once you get inside her head, and
have a look around.
To the casual observer
it may seem that she’s a
pulling furniture and other quality items
from the dumpster
and roadside piles, but
hell, if she doesn’t rake in
a hundred dollars each week, refinishing
and selling the stuff.
As much as my brother, Bronson, and I
would like to wallow in cat toy heaven, we
know she has her human daughter
to support for another year, and
the cash goes for that.
We miss her when she’s at work—her real jobs,
not the dumpster job
but Mom is driven
and worries that someone
will break the lab where she works, if
she ever thinks she can retire someday.
(that’s why she teaches her students to use their heads, and
think like how her brain works.)
I heard all about lots of bad stuff
that happened in Mom’s past, like
cancer and divorce
and some other crap
but she’s a Jesus-freak, and
maybe I’ll try it too
because it seems to have worked for her.
I love my Mom.
And when she gets all logical and philosophical with me
I just go pounce on Bronson,
have a bite to eat
then take a shit.
It’s great being her cat—
She cleans up my shit, too,
along with everyone elses!