901

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A CAT

6:00 am

My human appears to be sleeping quite peacefully. After all, it IS only dawn and she did go to sleep like say, a couple of hours ago. She has a really bad habit of staying up all night making these funny sort of clicking noises on a device, or scratching with ink on a piece of paper. But, wait a doggone minute... her hand is hanging down from the edge of her bed. Perhaps she is trying to play with me, even in her sleep? She is soo thoughtful. I'll just bite her hand to show her quite how much I do love her.

9:00 am

I am honestly done with humans. Their tiny pea-sized brain can't even understand love. A few hours ago I tried giving my human some feline love with an affectionate bite on her finger, and she screamed at me. I wish she had at least used some mouth-wash before shouting at me. To top it all off, it is at least four or five minutes past my feeding time and yet she still seems to be sleeping. I think she wants to starve me to death. But I am one step ahead of her. I am going to kill her first. If I put my paw firmly over her nose then she won't be able to breathe anymore. Finis. Right. Perfect. Okay, NO. She woke up. Well, she might have won this round but I am forever vigilant and at least I will get my food, for now. So, who is actually the real winner here?

2:00 pm

My human is one lazy kinda being. She spends her whole day riding around in cars and then comes back home and promptly goes off to sleep.

MY days are quite busy. My first task after she leaves is to go hunt through the trash for better food. I know it contains good, appealing food because I have often seen her keep some of her nonperishable food there after dinner. I remember one time I had to be taken to hospital after eating trash food, because too much of a good thing is always bad news, I find.
After trash-hunting, I have a fighting session with my opponent, arch-nemesis, the red yarn ball. So far, I've won every single fight. When I am tired, I take a good long hour to clean my phenomenal, shiny fur.

7:00 pm

By the time she, my human gets home I am quite tired from a long hard day. But face it, what, gentle people, does she, a lightweight, know about plain hard work? After riding in cars all day she'll often come in and inconvenience me, while sleeping. When I was younger and impulsive, I made the mistake of mischievously scratching her to show my disapproval. Whoops. But then she offhandedly cut my beautiful long nails. Jeez! Appalling. Inappropriate. So now I silently endure this devilishness without a peep, and I have to be sure that my face emphasizes how angry I am. Sometimes I even let out a few hisses, too.

12:00 am

After a lightish dinner of canned tuna and a small, vital sleep, I'm awake now, ready for playtime round 2. But this usually ends with me being locked, sleepless, in the guest room for what is left of the night. Oh, hell. Heigh ho...

902

"I Worried"
by (the late) Mary Oliver, from "Swan: Poems and Prose Poems"

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

I Imagined the Worst
(rhyme)

I imagined the worst,
and withdrew to vegetate.

I was a killjoy,
just wished to hibernate,

To loll and procrastinate.

I imagined my plump babies will fall or suffocate.

I imagined damage when I vaccinate.

I imagined my vigor will deteriorate.

I imagined night terrors, new horrors, harsh fate.

I imagined my giggling sons won't graduate.

But, wait...

Known philosophy: "Worry opens cans of worms,
things you don't want to activate."

I'll vow not to withdraw;
The more love I'll sow, the stronger I'll grow;
I'll stand, banner high in front, and celebrate!

903

HEADLINE NEWS
By
Edwin Starr

I wanna spread news all around
About the new love that I found
I found a love that I've been looking for
Now I don't have to look no more

Headline news, headline news
Everybody say
Extra, extra, read all about it
Extra, extra, read all about it

The world is at my feet
There's a halo around my head
I went out searching for gold
But I found love instead

She's a wish, a dream come true
I guess you might say I struck oil too

Headline news, headline news
Everybody say it
Extra, extra, read all about it
Extra, extra, read all about it
Read all about it, read all about it

Headline news, headline news
Everybody say it
Extra, extra, read all about it
Extra, extra, read all about it

In my neighborhood
They say, oh what a change in me
People say when I walk by
It's not hard to see

She brings out the best in me
Lights me up like a Christmas tree

Headline news, headline news
Everybody say it
Extra, read all about it
Extra, extra, read all about it
Extra, extra, read all about it

One, two, one, two, three, four.

BREXIT: A NATIONAL MALADY
By
An addled ex-voter

It's in the tabloids every day
With photos of Theresa May
All dominatin' our front page,
Aha, that saga's all the rage.

Headline news, headline news,
As, day after day, it's
Brexit, Brexit, read all about it.
Brexit, Brexit, read all about it.

Voters have had enough,
Our country's a terrible mess,
It's an unruly pantomime
Alas, now I couldn't care less.

Do we stay, do we leave, who knows?
Do we stay, do we leave, who cares?

Leave or stay, leave or stay?
Ah, make it go away!
Brexit, exit, the usual hoo-ha,
Brexit, exit, the final hoorah?

Headline news, shout aloud,
Day after day,
Brexit, Brexit, read all about it,
Brexit, Brexit, read all about it.

As I look into my doomy heart,
I see a nation torn apart,
Two years on and where are we?
Right where we were at the start.

Another referendum? Lunacy!
Gee, let's make it best of three!

Headline news, headline news,
Ululated loud;
Alleluia, don't wanna read it,
Brexit, no use, dull, don't need it ,
Brexit, no use, no don't believe it.
Brexit...

Enough! Enough already! Okay?

904

[Posted as a puzzle to be solved, all the letters in the preamble, the words ACROSS and DOWN and the added text in red boxes are re-used and anagrammed into the solution in the bespoke grid]

In our puzzle, an image (some text added if need be) equals a clue. Next, hints like "abbr." are eliminated. After solving, anagram the circled letters — an appropriate eight-letter word will appear. So, grab a pen. Enjoy! Pop beat | An ocean voyager | Opera man | Area | A mag | One awesome ode | Cool one | Quick-searched | A bio _ | A unit | _ Mine | A monogram

=

ACROSS | 1 GR(U) | 4 JOT | 7 P(A)RAMO(R)E | 14 COG | 17 QUEST | 19 KAT | 21 (B)ED | 22 MANTA | 23 O(R)O | 24 (F)UN | 25 BEN | 27 PEA | 29 WIZ | 30 ED | 31 LEO | 32 LA | 33 PI | 34 ASP | 36 PAN | 37 REBA | 40 EGG | 41 ARM | 43 TEN | 44 HELIX | 46 IL(Y)A | 47 MALICE | 51 THREE | 53 TOE | 54 CI | 55 ANEMIA | 56 OLD | 57 ANISE | 61 NOD(E)AR | 62 NEVER -------------- DOWN | 1 GUN | 2 RE | 3 USB | 5 OK | 6 TAP | 7 PEZ | 8 AD | 9 AMERICAN | 10 MADELINE | 11 ON | 12 RT | 13 EA | 14 COLEMAN | 15 OREGANO | 16 GOOGLED | 17 QUART | 18 TEPEE | 20 TEA | 21 BIN | 24 FLA | 26 NIN | 28 ASH | 29 WAX | 35 PET | 36 PIE | 38 BY | 39 AA | 42 MHO | 43 TED | 45 LOT | 48 IME | 49 CIA | 50 EAR | 53 RL | 58 IV | 59 SE | 60 ER


And the appropriate eight-letter word is FEBRUARY (in relatively faint red circles in the grid above).

905

Three women die together in a bus crash and go to Heaven.

On their arrival, St. Peter says, 'We have just one rule in Heaven: don't step on the ducks!'

So they enter the Pearly Gates, and sure enough, there are millions of ducks everywhere. It's almost impossible not to step on a duck, and although they try their best to avoid them, the first woman mistakenly steps on one.

Along comes St. Peter with the ugliest man she ever saw. St. Peter chains them together and says, 'Sorry, but your punishment for stepping on a duck is to spend eternity chained to this horribly ugly man.'

The next day, the second woman also steps on a duck and along comes St. Peter again. With him is an ugly, dribbling brute of a man. He chains them together with the same admonition as for the first woman.

The third woman has seen all this. Not wishing to be chained for eternity to an ugly man, she is extra-careful where she steps and manages to go for months without stepping on a duck.

One day St. Peter comes along with the most handsome man she has ever laid eyes on ... tall, muscular, blue eyes, fair hair. St. Peter chains them together without saying a word.

'Wow!' giggles the joyful woman. 'I wonder what I did to deserve being chained to you for eternity?'

The guy says, 'I don't know about you, but I stepped on a duck.'

A Scottish hunter named Timothy McPherson was enjoying an interesting Thursday morning on the marshes, hunting ducks, when he felt an urgent need to take a pee.

He went over to a nearby tree, propped up his gun and started to piddle. Just at that moment, a sudden gust of wind blew up, knocked the gun over, and it went off... shooting him in the vitals.

Some hours later, whilst lying flat on his back in a hard hospital bed, the hunter was approached by a consultant diagnostic surgeon.

'Well Mr McPherson,' said the physician, 'I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that, thankfully, you are going to be OK. The damage was confined to the groin area and there seems to have been very minimal internal damage. Furthermore, we were able to remove all of the buckshot.'

'That's great news! replied Timothy. 'So, what's the bad news then?'

'The bad news, I'm sorry to say, is that there was some rather extensive buckshot damage to your penis. I'm going to have to refer you to my sister, Hettie.'

'Oh well, I guess that isn't so pessimistic is it?' said Timothy. 'Is your sister Hettie a plastic surgeon then?'

'Hmm... not exactly,' answered the consultant. 'She's a flute player in the local symphony orchestra and she's going to teach you where to put your fingers so you don't pee in your eye.'

906

"Soneto LXXXI"
(With the original words by Pablo Neruda)

Ya eres mía. Reposa con tu sueño en mi sueño.
Amor, dolor, trabajos, deben dormir ahora.
Gira la noche sobre sus invisibles ruedas
y junto a mí eres pura como el ámbar dormido.

Ninguna más, amor, dormirá con mis sueños.
Irás, iremos juntos por las aguas del tiempo.
Ninguna viajará por la sombra conmigo,
sólo tú, siempreviva, siempre sol, siempre luna.

Ya tus manos abrieron los puños delicados
y dejaron caer suaves signos sin rumbo,
tus ojos se cerraron como dos alas grises,

mientras yo sigo el agua que llevas y me lleva:
la noche, el mundo, el viento devanan su destino,
y ya no soy sin ti sino sólo tu sueño.

A song based on Pablo Neruda's "Sonnet LXXXI"

And so you are mine. Slumber in your dream, inside my dream,
As love, pain, and labor also slumber.
Night turns on invisible circular gears,
and you are as pure as a slumbering amber.

No one else, Love, visits our dreams. You jump, so I
jump, and we jump as one, across cool aqua pools in time.
No one else soars over this gloom beside me--
just you, evergreen or sun or moon.

Arms are open, you drop various signs;
eyes close, sure as a bird's wings,
so I choose a goal:

as I sail over to your lagoon, it carries me across.
A moonlit panorama and cool air join common destinies.
Minus you, I am a solo dream or vision, just that, and that is all.