El Sheddi

Every few months, the cat sheds. His fine and allergenic fur distributes itself lightly on the air, interactively through human contact, and by direct application to whatever he brushes and rubs himself against.

As I scritched him today, I wondered what it must feel like to be a miniature human flea on the skin of such a magnificent creature. Yes, true, there would be many such fleas, but there would also be many forces beyond our perception. And the cat, the golden master of our world, he would be El Sheddi, the Lord of Hosts to us.

El Sheddi, El Sheddi
Are you feeling well-feddi?
You're an orange stripey lord
Bright of eye and eighteen-clawed
El Sheddi, El Sheddi
Daytime sees you all-beddi
But at night you're roaming free
El Sheddi