Flies Don’t Catch Themselves

By: Nicolas Gebbia

 

BB-8 the Cat by Summer Roed

 

I wonder what it would be like to be her.

To be able to sit on the windowsill and race the raindrops as they fall onto the glass.

To have silver fur and eyes rich with gold, 

 

Chasing flies all morning long,  sleeping wherever and whenever in the afternoon, and not an ounce of worry when the evening comes. I think she knows this is her home, and this is her routine.

her only purpose is  looking down upon the human race, judging us incompetent humans as we discuss our mundane activities. 

 

Oh to be a cat, 

afraid of loud noises, and having a human to call your own.   Bothering it when it’s sleeping, or  screaming at its door when it kicks you out. I wonder what it would be like to be her.

 

Oh to be a cat, 

Sitting on all of my homework, supplying me company when I need it most, and judging me as I struggle to perform everyday tasks.

 

When the sun hits the thin glass of the windows, making my room a golden color you rise from your slumber. 

 

You have a job to do,

 

To chase flies, be the foot warmer, and get all the ‘awes’ from everyone who catches a glimpse of you . To lay in my bed and sleep, to knock over my water at three in the morning, and keep us all sane. 

 

Oh to be a cat like you is something other felines fail to do.