Two Dutch Girls on a Road Trip to Wiltshire

Road Trip 2017 (2) - Richmond to Chawton to Salisbury.

Good afternoon! Would you like to join me for the second part of my road trip in the South-West of England? A long time wish of my daughter...

Monday, 12 January 2015

Viggo's Haiku on Voles

Cats have their own unique viewpoint of the dark, wet, Wetlands Winter months; at least...Viggo has!

Viggo in his custom-torn take-away bag

Q: You were an Autumn baby. Do you have a special affinity with Autumn?

V: Technically I was a late Summer kitten. And no, I prefer Spring. When the frogs and toads start to jump back to the pool, that's wonderful. And all those young birds that still cannot fly very well. And the butterflies, and the bumble bees, oh...bumble bees! And dragonflies! Poetry in motion.

Q: Do you mind getting wet so very often in Autumn and Winter? You never seem to mind the rain in our wetter than wet Wetlands.

V: Rain doesn't bother me at all. Must be my alleycat background. In fact, it is a great pleasure of mine to come in sopping wet and then curl up on your lap. As you well know. The way that you always dry off Gina, with one of those smelly dog towels...ridiculous. No towel needed here; I simply wait until my fur has dried out by itself.

Q: Most cats lick themselves dry. You don't seem to do that. Can you explain why not?

V: As I said, I prefer to lie in your lap, or your bed, and get dry. I wouldn't mind curling up next to Gina occasionally, but for some strange reason she doesn't want me in her basket. Every time I try, she growls most unpleasantly. Stupid, it's big enough!

Q: She's old. And you are allowed onto the furniture, she isn't, so...

V: So what? 

Q: Now don't get nasty.
  The reason for this interview is your latest Haiku. Would you like to share it with your readers?

V: Well... Yes. I'm quite content with it. It came to me when I was stalking one of those irritating voles near the shed, and I thought about it some, and finished it last Saturday when I was in my take-away bag.

Q: The floor is yours.


Smallish brownish prey
its shivering whiskers twitching
walks into my mouth

Q: Thank you so much, Viggo.

V: Hey, you promised to feed me extra if I shared that poem. Move it, woman!