Nashville Cat

I spent the weekend in Nashville, visiting my middle daughter, Elizabeth.  Nashville has its attractions—the music, the restaurants, the honky-tonks, the (shall we say) colorful tourists.  For me, however, it has Elizabeth—sufficient reason to travel anywhere on earth.  We spent the weekend mostly eating.  The real pleasure of listening to the voice of your grown daughter—in whom you see at every moment the infant, the toddler, all those earlier versions of her that brought you so much joy and laughter over the years—lies not in her openness, or her wit, or all the manifold satisfactions of seeing her make her way in the world.  No, the real pleasure of listening to the voice of your grown daughter is that while she’s talking you can fill your face with sushi.  And beer.  Or pizza.  And more beer.  The joys of fatherhood are many.  Meanwhile, however, I found that while I was in Music City, USA, enjoying my daughter’s company, our Ted was feeling neglected.  Or, at least, one would believe so from the following, which I found on the computer monitor when I got home.

so the bigster spends the weekend
tasting some authentic americana
and i sit home bereft
watching baseball on the tube
like hyman roth down in florida
in the godfather part iii

not that i’m bitter
but in a different world i would have been
a big nashville attraction
i am country born and bred
i could have been one of the pioneers
of feline-oriented country music

i understand heartbreak
i know about prison and pickup trucks
and train whistles and i know what it’s like
when the bigster’s off having fun somewhere
and i’m left to stare at my claws and shed

so here is a country music song i just wrote
to the tune of hank williams’
cold cold heart

i tried so hard the bigster knows
to be a faithful cat
but when he feels like leaving town
he leaves his feline flat
the memory of us on the couch
just tears this cat apart
why can’t i curl up by his side
and melt the bigster’s heart?

three daughters born before my time
all won the bigster’s love
and when a daughter needs her dad
it’s her he’s thinking of
the fact that i’m his faithful pal
so gentle kind and smart
still leaves me here without a shot
to melt the bigster’s heart

when daughters call the bigster up
he jumps just like a frog
but can you name the last time one
wrote something for his blog?
composing verse is hard work but
i always do my part
but even this is not enough
to melt . . . the . . . bigster’s . . . heart

2 Responses to Nashville Cat

  1. Lesley Pendleton Apr 23, 2012 at 9:26 am

    Aw, now, you’re tugging at my heartstrings!

  2. Yes, dear Ted, that’s how it goes (and not only with your bigster); the human kind seems to forget that all who live need love.
    But, don’t forget, my dear, sweet Ted, that far away, in France, there lives a human(a bigsteress) who loves you and has a heart that melted at first sight. And also don’t forget, that the bigster always comes back to YOU!

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