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soothing the savage beast

Mister whiskers jumps up in my lap
Does everything but hand me the comb
Ah, now it’s time!
A mutual love-in.
We both take pleasure from this ritual.
He, with his whirring motor running
and his dribbling drool
as I do the mandatory stroking.
His inner lids half closed in nirvana.
He turns to face me so I can get to more places,
when oops! wrong place.
He strikes with the swiftness of a cobra,
and I have a bloody nose now.
Little bastard.



Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

3 thoughts on “soothing the savage beast Leave a comment

  1. Haha! Cats really are savage! Several years ago, I was petting my friend’s cat, Starsky, and touched her in the wrong spot and received a slash up along my forearm. It was pretty hard to explain to people that it was caused by a cat!

    Liked by 1 person

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