IBM is using a super-computer in an attempt to replicate the brain of a cat. Good luck with that. It’s gonna take more than a super-computer, no matter how many terabytes of memory, to duplicate the brain of a cat. During World War 2 someone had the bright idea of strapping a cat onto a bomb and dropping him from a bomber, under the theory that cats turn and twist in mid-air, landing on their feet, and so the cat would steer the bomb on its way down. Of course the cat did what any intelligent creature would have done being released at a couple of thousand feet in the air from a plane, strapped to a bomb. It promptly fainted. I talked to a descendant of that cat.

 

 

I was just a kit, just opened eyes

When grampa went to war

They took him high up in the skies

And dropped him through a door

Along the bottom of the plane

And he fell through the air

And died one hopes without much pain

Though no one seemed to care

But that was much too long ago

I said with wrinkled brow

For him to be your gramps you know

Its years from then to now

Well not my gramps like poppa’s pop

But grampa nonetheless

I tried to count but where to stop

He’s kin of mine I guess

He sobbed a sob and dried his eyes

He died for us he cried

Strapped to a bomb, dropped from the skies

And when he hit he died

But there’s no statue anywhere

No verse about him wrote

He died for us, he did his share

And when cats get the vote

We’ll have our own Mount Rushmore face

My grampa carved in stone

And cats can take our rightful place

And you won’t be alone

 

 See my science fiction novel CHRYSALIS at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle.

 

 

Did you ever wonder what a cat was thinking as he lay on a windowsill in the sun, purring contentedly? I did, and asked him, and this is what he said.

 

 

I sit on sunny window sills and dream of mice and men

And how we’re all the same in many ways

Outside a bird is warbling every song he knows again

That is how he spends his minutes and his days

A squirrel is racing up a tree, he seems to have such fun

While I behind the window pane look on

Not envious or jealous as I sit here in the sun

For come the end of day they’ll all be gone

To where I have no knowledge and in truth I do not care

Tomorrow at the window I’ll be here

To look out at the world so bright, so elegant, so fair

A world so far and yet again so near

I know this place is made for me and all who share my world

For God has made us, each and every one

And I content to sit and watch, so delicately curled

Upon my window sill in golden sun

 

My novels on Amazon, paperback and Kindle, can be found HERE