See the above photograph? Deb sent me that photograph; and, she wants me to “do something” with it. I could tell her to jump off a bridge, but I don’t think Australia has any bridges, yet, because no one has given them the recipe for one; moreover, insulting Deb would alienate her and she might turn the entire continent of Australia against me as Paul Hogan did just twenty years ago. Then, I’d only have Joanne in New Zealand, but I fear our relationship is tenuous at best.
One problem is that it is difficult for me to relate to the photograph. In America, cats don’t need ladders; but, in Australia, with the snakes, lizards, poisonous birds, man-eating trees and drop-bears, I doubt that cats ever come DOWN from the ladder. I assume, for a cat in Australia, every day is like a last stand against the zombie apocalypse. My evidence for this is that most Australian cats can pump a shotgun one-handed.
Then, it occurred to me that Deb might’ve POSED that cat on the ladder. And, if this is so, how can I trust ANY of her other photographs? Was that REALLY a waterfall or was it just her partner pouring his bottled water down the side of a cliff? The angry lion… maybe she burned it with a cigarette; or worse, maybe she took away its cigarettes. Back when I smoked, someone took away my ciggies and I got so made that I went out and killed and ate a gazelle. Fortunately, the National Zoo had yet to install security cameras in that area…
Maybe the cat’s on a ladder because it had planned to elope, possibly with another cat but I don’t want to come off as intolerant. The other cat never showed, leaving this kitty high, dry and emotionally shattered. Psychologically destroyed as I was when I learned that Iron Man wasn’t real. This cat is stunned and needing a hug. What does Deb do? SHE PHOTOGRAPHS HIS PAIN! Is Deb heartless or just a really dedicated photojournalist… and is there really a difference between the two things?
Deb did mention that I could use the photo for something inspirational; but, seeing a cat on a ladder only inspires me to keep my ladders AWAY from cats. Seriously… who gives access to their tools to the family cat? My cat got a hold of the last four digits of my social security number and cleaned out my checking account.
Then, I got a great idea: Write a heartfelt poem. Deb and I are both amateur poets (the time I was paid NOT to write poetry doesn’t count). So, to get myself off the hook.
Nothing makes me madder
Than a cat on a ladder
Why it’s on it, I don’t care
I simply do not want it there
How it got there, I don’t know
But, it shows no signs that it will go
And so, it sits there like a fixture
Just so Deb can take its pixture