It’s technically the offseason [sad tear], so unless you’re already craving mock drafts, theoretical trades, or god forbid, power rankings…time to switch gears.

I like Bukowski, poetry and animals, and as it happens, Chinaski wrote a whole book on cats, one of which was named Butch!

This is too much synchronicity to avoid, so I’m going to share some “Butch” poems this offseason. Enjoy.

bad fix

old Butch, they fixed him

the girls don’t look like him much

anymore.

when Big Sam moved out

of the back

inherited big Butch,

70 as cats go,

old,

fixed,

but still as big and

mean a cat as anybody

ever remembered

seeing.

he’s damn near gnawed

off my hand

the hand that feeds him

couple of

times

but I’ve forgiven him,

he’s fixed

and there’s something in

him

that doesn’t like

it.

at night

hear him mauling and

running other cats through

the brush.

Butch, he’s still a magnificent

old cat,

fighting

even without it.

what a bastard he must have been

with it

when he was 19 or 20

walking slowly down

his path

and I look at him

now

still feel the courage

and the strength

in spite of man’s smallness

in spite of man’s scientific

skill

old Butch

retains

endures

peering at me with those

evil yellow eyes

out of that huge

undefeated

head.