Tiger, tiger burning bright

Now I ask you...

...do I look fat?

Another Sunday here on Blossom Ridge. Mommy Bonnie has a touchy stomach this morning but she will have to get to feeling better because Builder Mike needs more paint, and Mommies need to buy some more bulbs for fans at the cottage and get them there today.

Marquette told me a secret. You see, he can jump up on the counter and I, because I am a husky size, can't. So he was sitting on the counter last week and there was a Huntington Tab lying there that Mommy had brought home from The Farm. On the front page was a photo of Mr. Taylor, the father of the family who didn't adopt me last summer. Marquette pushed The Tab on the floor and asked me if it was THE Mr. Taylor, and I said yes. Then Marquette said, "Aren't you really glad that the Taylors didn't adopt you? We would never have seen each other again. Besides, you love Mommy now, and we are soon going back to Timber Lake and The Farm to our Forever Cottage." And Marquette is right, of course. No question about it.

So Mommies went to The Cottage yesterday and met with Builder Mike for some last decisions. Rex and LeeAnn were there installing lights, fans, heaters. The fan on the front porch was up. Plumbing and electrical decisions also had to be made. Builder Mike will be putting the stair rail up this week, a second coat of paint, and lots of finishing touches. The interior doors, including the Dutch Door, will go up. So many exciting things! Mommies wanted to clean and seal the cork floor in the loft yesterday, but Builder Mike asked them to put it off until next weekend because the floor was taped for baseboard painting.

Well, this diet sucks. I thought if I ignored the Indoor Cat Chow, that Mommy would be guilted into giving me the regular food. But, nooo.... So I have been eating the Indoor variety, and I probably haven't lost an ounce. Mommy will weigh me late this week and we will see. I have been extra affectionate toward Mommy, especially during the night. I wake her up 2-3 times each night, standing on her chest, purring as loudly as I can, kneading her with my paws with 14 1/2 pounds of paw power, hoping she will reward my attention with the real Cat Chow. It just isn't working.

The Tiger

William Blake (1757–1827)

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

~There is no such thing as a FREE tiger!~