Martha Draper

            I received this voice message on my phone, from my cat.

            This is Reba McIntyre. That’s a stupid message I had to listen to before telling you:

            Do you know what time it is? My bowl is on EMPTY!!!  Come home Noooowwww!

            You told me you would be back soon, but you lied.

I am starving here!

            Sixteen years we have been in this pet/person relationship, and you know better. I am a senior cat, remember?

            Now, about your recorded message. Let me create a new one for your peeps to hear  when they call.  I am more creative and succinct. It should go like this: This is Martha’s cat, Reba, and she is busy feeding me, so leave a message and she will get back to you.

Jim Arnold

Doggone

Home from work but I can’t rest, there’s a job I must complete.

A Pooper Scooper, a Walmart sack (fitting), in the yard I’ve messes to meet.

A job well done, in the house, but a note on my chair seemed rather odd.

From the dog, hard to read, then I remembered that she’s left-pawed.

Master I love you dearly, but I hate going for a walk.

You keep messing with my poop and the other dogs are starting to talk.

Sometimes you follow me around, it’s disgusting, you’re obsessed.

I hide it, but you find it, you need to give it a rest? 

Don’t you have your own to play with? Stay away with mine.

It’s fertilizer, save you money, it will turn out fine.

So, this is my ultimatum, I know it might sound strange

But tomorrow I’m heading over the fence, if something doesn’t change.