Francis Cash #15

Ethan: Francis, look I’m sorry.

Francis: No! Stay away from me.

Ethan: Here, have some treats.

Francis: What is THIS this isn’t going to change anything.

Ethan: I’m sorry I dropped you in the sink.

I thought I had a better grip. But you MOVED!

Francis: (sighs. looks away.) I’m sorry I bit you. But you did drop me in the sink. You grabbed my bob tail.

Ethan: (whispers) I thought it was a Hemorrhoid or something.

Francis: What! It’s my tail.

Ethan: You’re the one that keeps getting poop stuck.

Francis: I do smell betterz now.

Beagle in the City #286

Ethan: Simon, hey, Simon, check this out. I found a documentary about poets.

Simon: What? No, I’m good, you’re a good poet.

Ethan: Simon come on man. I have chicken fingers. I’ll even make pie.

Simon: I’m sleeping. Good night.

Ethan: ….

Ethan: Hey Francis!

France: Yo, whassup wait is that pie?

Ethan: you want to watch this poetry documentary with me?

Francis: You know I’m always down to make fun of your profession.

Ethan: It’s not a profession, I don’t even get paid.

Francis: You really don’t have to make it easier. Just leave it like it is. I already told you I’m gonna watch the show with you.

Ethan: we can watch what you want next.

Francis: The aristocrats

Ethan: Again, it’s Cats- Aristocats

Francis cash #11

Francis: Look at this, according to this fb post, the average hooman doesn’t know what he wants until you sell it to him. This is ridicurous. What’s happening to societies.

Simon: I don’t believe it, I just use my nose, hey, I think there’s Cheetos in the trash…

Francis: Cheetos! Hit me. Boy, I didn’t even know I was hungry. But I’m a bit snackish.

Beagle in the City #283

Francis: what’s to eat! I put my order in days ago. Who’s running this joint anyway.
Ethan: Hey now, you big jerk…
Simon: Hey I was thinking we could eat sandwiches. Pastas. Oh wait wait…pasta sandwiches…
Ethan: (gags) it’s ok (gags again) how about a spinach salad…with salman…maybe-
Simon: what’s a s-s-a-lad??
Ethan: ….it’s spinach and greens…with oil and vinegar…salt and pepper…don’t use ranch it ruins it…like axe body spray…
Simon: I don’t get it?
France: Yeah me either, with all the oil and vinegar? Where do you put the lasagna?
Ethan: Great day, Simon, a salad is all the stuff you eat outside.
And Francis, we are not having lasagna…
Francis: ( big eyes)
Ethan: we’re compromising for spaghetti and garlic toast…
Simon: Yeahh Toast!

2020 #43

When I was younger

My neighbor planted these pear trees in his front yard…

They were attractive trees

The only problem was, every time the wind blew, they lost a limb or split down the middle.

I remember because that season we had tornadoes every Friday.

My dad had a cherry tree. He hated it. That same summer he tried cutting down.

It came back.

He tried pulling it up with his tractor.

But it came back.

Finally he cut it, and then burned it.

——

The night I had to go to the house and found my father had passed away…

I remember walking outside in the rain I looked over

And saw that the cherry tree was back…

I laughed, it had outlasted my dad.

——-

The pear trees looked better.

They didn’t take up space

And everyone loved them

But they were frail…

——-

I hope you’re like the cherry tree

I hope you’re resilient

I hope you fight tooth and nail for what you believe in… and for yourself

I hope you don’t give up what’s keeping you moving.

I want to be like that

For my health

For my life

For my art

Keep going

Take up space

Grow large

What else is there?

Bleeding Ink 1,520

She has words

Like rain

Her eyes

Like moonlight over water

She’s out there tonight

She’s going to make it alright

I hope you’re there when she makes her stand

——

I’ve seen people come

And

People go

I’ve lived just enough

Though I’m not old

I know what I like

I like the way she dances

I like the soft way she laughs

When she knows

She’s got it right

mist over my eyes

She’s better than champagne

I’m here standing

Waiting on the world to come end to end

She came out of no where

She puts the color in fall

She’s real

And it pours out

Like it was written

All at once

Like a season breaking through

A new morning

Starting new

Bleeding Ink 1,518

Time out of mind

My insides are stone

All I do is groan

What kind of love….she said

Cold hands

I’m free

But when the lights go down

When the traffic is tight

While I’m waiting

I still hear him

I still see him

Stomping

Yelling

Who knew

Marriage was war

——-

She feels herself slipping away

She sees him

And feels the blow from his words

The blow from his hands

That selfish way he demands

——

It’s a long way

Long way from home

She has that vacant stare in her eyes

Like a war vet

You know she’s reliving it

——

She’s praying for salvation

——

Hoping she can still touch things gently

There’s nothing left to see…

Nothing left to say

He may not hit you

But he may cut your off from your circle

He may cut you down

He may gaslight you

He may suddenly twist it

And make you feel like

Your feelings are invalid

He may sit down and portray a conversation

But it’s really just conditioning you

So you can go back to the way he needs you

He may be nice here

And over there

And those little moments feel so bright

Because they are so few and so far

——

What does it matter now

There’s barely light here now

I’m always reaching

But I can never find

Is there some way out

Some piece of me left?

Just buckets of pain

Buckets of rain

Cities on fire

I’m not even crying

Barely even trying

What’s the point

My heart broke some time ago …

Now there’s just

Flashes of colour

Flashes of pain

What is there left here to spare ?

The one about cats and dogs

Francis: Hit me with the lasagnas.
Simon: I call breadstix!

If you want to really know the difference between a cat and a dog. Adopt both.

Just close your eyes and get in there.

What’s the worst that could happen. It’s not like they’re going to be different… and if they are? It’s not going to be a big deal.

I’m lucky, France is very much like a dog. He wrestled with Simon, he lays around a lot…when it was just me and him for a few months, he was there every day. Checking on me to make sure I was still employed so I could buy him snacks

But there are differences,

When I go to bed

Simon is usually already asleep.

Under his blanket, and sheet, with his pillow, because he’s lame and spoiled.

France stops and looks in the door, I tell him goodnight, call him, he just sits there, I give up and say, “good night bud, let’s go to bed, or don’t, I don’t care, you’re a cat, do what you want.”

30 minutes later. When I’m drifting off to sleep? He jumps on the bed, “ I have decided! To ask about your day.”

Later, around 3 am he starts his olympics…jumping from the corners of the bed and launching into oblivion.

I get up around this time every day…Simon? He doesn’t start his day until 10:30 am every day. He doesn’t even say good bye anymore.

So there are big, tiny little differences.

Simons favourite food is sandwiches

Francis is convinced he enjoys coffee and alcohol. He’s probably a smoker too. But he’d never admit it to me.

Adopt a cat, adopt a dog. They’re good for you. You can walk one and stay healthy, outside.

While the other regularly criticises you on all the things you’re most sensitive about, which keeps your ego in check.

It’s a pretty good arrangement, Simon is down for whatever is the mood. Naps, movies, guitar, reading, walks.

Francis is very selective. He watches the X Files and documentaries.

Simon lives for meeting people and friends. He forgets no one.

Francis is selective, again reminding us that if you’ve met a cat and still don’t understand consent, then I don’t know what to tell you.

Will they help you write?

That remains to be seen.

Simon: Wait! you’re a writer?

Francis: I’ve never seen you write!

Ethan: I have a website

Francis: I thought that was just a really sad inspirational essays thing. (Waves paws) I didn’t know it was permanent.