A Catseye View

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A Catseye View

By Jon Frangipane

“Look, Berkel, there’s a pretty little bird sitting out there on our seagrape tree. What do you say that we buy a nice pretty little bird who can sing pretty little songs to us all day.”

“I’d say I’m pretty sure that you’re pretty nuts to want a pretty little bird that sings pretty little songs all day. And besides, I eat birds; especially those that sing pretty little songs all day.”

“I realize that normal cats are predators, but I was so lucky to adopt you, Berkel, a cat who, despite a pea-size brain, and through some quirk of nature, happens to be able store a great amount of information, thus being quite cerebral, but knows that in order to live and breathe properly, one must be able to eat food, therefore be able to listen to and obey his master, who is, in case you haven’t noticed, in complete control, at all times.”

“Apparently you forgot that I asked you to get me a lady friend a few months ago. You know, that cute little pussy Mrs. O’Malley was giving away and you refused me with the excuse that the litter box ‘couldn’t handle anymore messy do-do,’ as you put it. And now I’m supposed to welcome some loony bird into this house with open arms. You are pretty nuts!”

“That may be all well and good, but let me tell you a true story.”

“Don’t tell me, it’s about a pretty little bird who sings all day long.”

“You are such a brilliant pussy cat, Berkel. And if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll clam up and listen!”

“I can’t wait. I’m all ears! And this better be good!”

“It was before you were born, about eight years ago, and I was cleaning up the patio when something yellow streaked into my living room through the open patio door.”

Berkel yawned. “If I fall asleep, just give me a nudge.”

“As I was saying, this yellow streak that flew into my living room turned out to be a love bird. A sweet, precious, tiny, lovable yellow love bird.”

“You never called me lovable,” declared Berkel.

“As I was saying, this sweet, precious, tiny, lovable yellow love bird flew into the kitchen, around the front loft, back into the dining room, sat on the piano and to my amazement began to sing Elvis Presley’s Love Me Tender. We’ll, I sat down at the piano and began to accompany the little yellow bird and we spent the entire afternoon singing and playing Elvis Presley songs.”

“But you hate Elvis Presley songs!”

“Yes, but this was different. This was a very special bird that even had some of Elvis’s moves. Ya know, how he moved his hips?”

“Hold it! Stop the train, I want to get off.”

“What train, Berkel?”

“This train loaded with horse manure, that’s what train!”

“So, you don’t believe my story?”

“Other than the fact that birds have no hips, I really do believe that you think this actually happened, but then I also happen to know you live in a fantasy world. Case in point: that day we had a party on the patio and you were about to take a bite out of your hamburger when a fly landed on it and you thought you heard the fly call out to his friends, saying ‘Hey, guys, the party’s over here!’ Remember? Then none of your friends would eat because you went a little crazy and sprayed all the food with Raid, and we had to order pizza out. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. But I also remember that my lovable lovebird tweeted love songs that warmed the cockles of my heart.”

“Well, I can’t tweet, and I may never warm the cockles of your heart, but who else in this world do you think would endure such a huge amount of pain and torture I have experienced in our short relationship?”

“Why, there’s, what’s-her-name. Her name escapes me for the moment.”

“Hey, get back to me later, it’s time for my nap!”

***

Copyright 2009  © Jon Frangipane    Revised 2015

Jon Frangipane is a pianist and composer and former editor/publisher of the Lighthouse Point Magazine. He also co-facilitated the Fort Lauderdale Writers’ Group with writer/publisher Krista Martinelli. Also he owns a tennis racket.