If Only They'd Stop Calling Her Fat

The thing about car rides is that though they can be counterproductive to the sustainability of breathable air, they can be productive, if the time is used wisely by the driver or passenger(s), to the thought process or useful in the generation of ideas. I zoned out at 35mph in a snow storm on Tuesday listening to NPR (I think?). The host talked about a new web site recently launched by a woman who found much closure in writing an obituary for her father who recently passed. She found also that writing an obituary for the "death" of a relationship brought the same result. So the new site allows other folks to write obituaries for their extinguished relationships.

The thing is, my best friend just passed away. And when I say best friend, I mean my cat. That is Nike Scout Hemingway Bingman. Nike was given to her via my obsession with Michael Jordan (I thought I was going to be tall and play basketball for a living) when I was twelve. Scout is from To Kill a Mockingbird. Hemingway is from the author, of course, who had a fondness for six-toed felines. Nike had six toes on her front paws. Bingman comes from where you might expect it to. The names didn't all come at once.

I'm not sure how to write a sufficient obituary. What did she accomplish? The gaining of several pounds and hours of sleep I would say. How old was she? Only eleven years, or 77 in the cat world. The cancer got her and wouldn't let go, so I had to. She was a good cat. It was tough during "the college years"but we got through it. I'll leave you with a poem I wrote for her in either my junior or senior of high school. (I also wrote her a song entitled "Nike the Cat" to the tune of "Rocky Raccoon." Mrs. Mellott still remembers it.) The poem stays posted above her kibble dish.

If Only They'd Stop Calling Her Fat

If only they'd stop calling her fat
How could they not
When every glassy-eyed glance
Seems to say "I am hungry!"
Her body, like a big furry sack of potatoes
Looks almost lifeless lying there with one
Hind leg dangling form the dining table chair
But she hurriedly rises with every
Opening of the fridge door
As if to say "No, I haven’t had a snack today."
And after defeat, she flops her belly
On the floor listlessly to return to her dormancy
The worst motivational speaker in the world
But a surprisingly very good sack of potatoes
If only they'd stop calling her fat

hkb

Nike Scout Hemingway Bingman 1996-2008

¶ posted by hannah the kid bingman @ 5:00 PM