Daisy Buchanan in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (2012 [1925]) exerts power through her voice and deliberate association with the colour white to construct an image of herself as an object of desire. Her voice is a significant aspect of her character, mentioned multiple times throughout the novel. It is described as ‘full of money’ (p. 92) ‘metaphorizing the seeming innateness of her class...

_“…. and even after all that had transpired, after each revelation had smothered more of his hope, he still _

_still_

_still …”_ Excuse me, good sir, it is quite difficult to fill this page with your paw in the way! Oh, don’t look at me like that- I’m writing on a deadline! No, we cannot go to bed yet, well, you can, I should say, you do all day, anyway.

Unfortunately, as I am not a cat, I must ...

“You know, Fluffy? You’re the only one who really gets me.”

“Yes, Benjamin. But talking to me is not going to get that novel written.”

The writer looked around. But he knew it was the cat who talked. And he knew that there was nobody around to hear either of them speaking. Hazel had been asleep for hours.

“Silly man. Hazel cannot hear me. Or you for that matter. She tolerates you going ...

Looking at a cat

some

Cats

stay in clutters

Allowing each cat to learn From one another

Some

cats

learn things from beings unlike there own

A Cat

that

learned cat things with no cats around

SMART

Allowing themselves to learn

Hygeine

Routines

That fit there internal needs

sometimes

No

Mom

No

Dad

Of there own kind

In sight

Cats

Brave

With eyes that try to understand

Suddenl...

The squirrel is much easier to deal with. He takes me off in all sorts of directions, but at least I have some sense of accomplishment. I can label his interference as "research" and pretend that I have made forward progress. I haven't, but self-delusion is comfortable for any writer.

But not the cat.

The cat just stares. You can ascribe many inferences to her interference. That stare says it al...

They say nothing is like being curled up with a good book

But what curls up in such a distinct manner?

A fluffy, furry friend that judges your grammar

Can cats read?

No, of course not! That’s absurd!

Perhaps it’s just a coincidence that a book lies curled in a calico’s fur

Her eyes scan the pages

But just out of flickering interest

It’s nothing unbelievable no one else has witnessed

Oh, but her...

I’m sitting here and all of a sudden have writer's block. It seems that writing is not my strongest skill, but one I am interested in continuing and my biggest critic is sitting at my desk staring at me with what looks like an expression that could have so many meanings. His name is Mitttens. It's all I could think of, because when my hands were cold in the winter, all I had was a pair of mittens,...

Now, from reading this story's title, you are probably thinking… is this man a drunk? Well, I guess you could call me that. I’ve finished my 3rd glass, and things are starting to feel a bit wonky. Wavy. Maybe wavy is a better word. The funny thing is, though, my cat also has the same name as this title. And now you probably think you are sure of it. “He must be a drunk,” is that what you're thinki...

** When we’re trying to improve,**

**by siting in our rooms.**

**staring at our decorations,**

**since we don’t know what to do. **

**We look out and stare at nature **

**saying “wow**

**my world’s a treasure.”**

**for a second our minds rest,**

**while we’re trying process. **

**one more thought is all we need.**

**“maybe i’m not good enough?”**

**Then we turn and see a cat,**

**At a window, so r...

As the candlelight glows

So do your amber eyes

Golden like the sun

With dark flecks full like the moon

When winter comes

No flowers bloom

As you sit on my desk, purring aloud

My hand flowed through your fur,

soft as velvet night

Here I read another Psalm

Silence, like the crickets at night

Not worried about

The whispers in town

Making their judgements

Leaping abound

What a wonderful compan...