Wednesday's water

Waiting on water


she waits, 
focused on
a dripless tap
needing human 
thumbed hands 
to release a stream, 
as my grandpas fondly 
said, ‘to wet her whistle' 
with life giving water, 
my grama’s 'adam’s ale'  
to wash her whiskers
in wobbling rivulets
splashing, bouncing 
over the tiny barbs
dotting her rosy
feline tongue
to quench
her mighty
thirst


Merry is the only cat in a long line of felines I've lived with who demands fresh, running tap water. We find her sitting impatiently at all available taps, waiting, waiting on water, fresh flowing water. Her second choice, shunning the water bowl used by every other past furry companion, is a large glass, freshly filled to the brim. She is an expert on freshness and will ignore glasses that she finds wanting. 

Raspberry ate frozen raw food, with lots of natural fluids built into her meals. Merry has only one choice now with her allergies and she has embraced the dry prescription rabbit suggested by our vet whole heartedly. I have never fed any of our cats just dry food, but at the moment she eats this with gusto. She turns her nose up at the prescription canned rabbit or microwaved(to kill any pathogens due to her immune supressing allergy meds) freeze dried rabbit. I've given in and we are both willing servants with her water needs. Our love for this tiny cinnamon roll of a cat is overwhelming.

Certain photographs, often ones that seem to need something more tigger bits of words and verse that roll around find their way here. I used to be shy, but now I just give in. My dear blip friend Kendall encouraged me years ago. She showed me with a few edits, how a post of mine written while at our summer place in Maine, could become a poem from my prose. Every now and then a photograph triggers the need for my thoughts to spill out in verse. Such was this quick and faffed shot today

For the Record,
This day came in warm and wet with sun now and then.

All hands wary.