Namo is a chicken, hahaha

No, not Namo the dreaded, judge of the dead, Master of Doom, keeper of the souls of our beloved elves, but Namo, my tomcat, the big lazy one with an appetite for two and not dreaded at all. The only thing he and Manwe´s chief advisor have in common is that they both wear black. Right now my pussycat cat is hiding in a wood box beneath the tiled stove, waiting for the big bad vibrator which is compressing the macadam in front of our house to go away. It´s rather dark under the stove, so you can only see Namo´s green eyes bulging with fear. His sister is sitting in front of the box, playfully shoving her paw towards her timid brother, and is greeted with a miserable miaow. A miserable miaow. From my Namo. That sounds ridiculous, like a bear of a man with a squeaky voice. I´ll take my yellowbelly to the bedroom now, where he can huddle up to me under the blankets. Thank heavens this is the last day of roadworks in our street!

(no subject)

Ah, I forgot to post this poem, when I wrote about my cats and the fridge. This was the favourite poem of my children.

Bear In There

There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.

Shel Silverstein