An Ode to Our Cats…Hank and me (Part 2)

In his later years when he ran out of things to say about drinking, the sad state of the world, women, and brawling,  Charles (Hank) Bukowski wrote some really good stuff about his cats.  He always had one or two or five hanging around and his love and admiration for them shines through his words.
He inspired me to write an ‘ode’ to my most recent cats.  We have a lot in common, Hank and I.  Nowadays, I try to have only one cat at a time but in the past I’ve had up to five.  My downfall was that I decided to breed Persian cats….but, damn!  When the kittens were born, I couldn’t bear to give them up.  That ended my breeding days.

Here is an ode to Hank’s mean, old, junk-yard dog of a Cat.cat lovers, cats, Charles Bukowski

bad fix   by Charles Bukowski

old Butch, they fixed him
the girls don’t look like much
anymore.

when Big Sam moved out
of the back
I inherited big Butch,
70 as cats go, old, fixed,
but still as big and
mean a cat as anybody
ever remembered
seeing.

he’s damn near gnawed
off my hand
the hand that feeds him
a couple of
times
but I’ve forgiven him,
he’s fixed
and there’s something in
him
that doesn’t like
it.

at night
I hear him mauling andcat lovers, cats, Charles Bukowski
running other cats through
the brush.

Butch, he’s still a magnificent
old cat,
fighting
even without it.

what a bastard he must have been
with it
when he was 19 or 20
walking slowly down
his path
and I look at him
now
still feel the courage
and the strength
in spite of man’s smallness
in spite of man’s scientific
skill
old Butch
retains
endures

peering at me with those
evil yellow eyes
out of that huge
undefeated
head.
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cat lovers, cats, Charles Bukowski     one for the old boy  by Charles Bukowski

he was just a
cat
cross-eyed,
a dirty white
with pale blue eyes
I won’t bore you with his
history
just to say
he had much bad luck
and was a good old
guy
and he died.
like people die
like elephants die
like rats die
like flowers die
like water evaporates and
the wind stops blowing

the lungs gave out
last Monday.
now he’s in the rose
garden
and I’ve heard a
stirring march
playing for him
inside of me
which I know
not many
but some of you
would like to
know
about.

that’s
all.                                  To read part I of ‘Ode to Our Cats’   click here

and don’t miss my Interview with Charles Bukowski…click here
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