augury doggerel

Sunday, December 01, 2002


I put the cat out in the snow. (It is snowing now deep snow. The author watches snow, to which he can add nothing. His works have been translated into French and German.) She doesn't come back. More snow and more snow and cat less. I feel guilty. I walk around outside calling her name in the pathetic high-pitched woo-hoo voice I speak only when I call the cat. It's like calling hogs but with more fur. Sooey. But the cat's name is Zuzia. Zuuu-zia. But no cat. Around in the snow I walk. I think I hear her and I go around a corner and in a pine is a blackbird (Turdus merula indeed) silently staring at me with one yellow eye. I'm sure it was him just a second earlier imitating me calling the cat or imitating the cat calling me. And it manages to keep a straight face.


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