Friday June 3rd 2016Tim
As a person I share the descended larynx with the Cat.
Which means we are both pretty good at making noises.
Unlike the Cat I can use my tongue to shape those noises
in a great many different ways. And sometimes I fondly
believe that the noises I make as a result of using my
tongue can be understood by the Cat. Sadly in moments of
panic, when imagination runs toward stories of Eagles
feeding live Cats to their giant nestlings Eagles, the
only noise that will distract the Cat from her dangerous
pursuit of an evening Rabbit, is the sound of a spoon
tapping her food bowl.
when the grandchild visited. Like the Cat she was very
reluctant to come when called. She'd wander off and no
amount of cleanly annunciated verbal explanation from me
would return her to the fold. The Artist of course has a
certain ferocity, a commanding figure when it suits, she had
no trouble gathering up the grandchild. And she has these
same abilities when it comes to the Cat, no question of The
Artist ever having to tap a food bowl. I don't know what it
is, but I suspect it might have something to do with my own
craven cowardice around what I once used to think of as My