Monday, April 23, 2012


There he is, the cat hanging on for dear life at the edge of disaster. He miaows, furious at having got into this situation, but he is not about to commit to acceptance of help. He is a cat, and he is ultimately confident of a place at the right foot of God.

But still, there are several more lives to go, and he'd rather this one was not severed too early. So he will swing like a pendulum, commit his life to harmonic oscillation and cat-flexibility, the gift of spinal laxity and the power of long abdominals and dorsals.

And there he goes, gracefully stretching across the sky into split-second razor-edge safety. He assumes the laconic, nonchalant paw-grooming pose. And that is how he hangs.



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