It's Jazzy Infestation time!

Bacon and rice make a good brekkie, luncho and din-din! Just saying!
Anywho, here is my most recent parameters composition for all you cat lovers. Enjoy!

Parameters:
* describe a cat’s dream
* hot summer
* flea infestation
* digs jazz

Jazzy Infestation (written 28 Jun 10)

My skin was burning when my boy woke me up with a careful sweep of the length of my body.
“Mingus? Mingus?” he whispered, “It’s time to go on a trip.”
I lifted my head and looked up at him. He smiled a toothy grin which made his eyes crinkle into long slits. He rubbed me behind my ears. I leaned my head toward his touch and began to purr. My boy began to sniffle and let out a puff of air as if he was holding back something. I wondered to myself what it was. I could only sense a little sadness. He rubbed the back of my ears again and gathered me up in his arms very delicately. I felt a little dizzy and nauseous when he lifted me but I eased into his hold. I closed my eyes. I was so very tired.
My boy’s mommy was near the cold, white food box holding a dish of the creamy stuff I love. She was fanning herself with her free hand.
“Oh, there you are kitty-kitty,” she said like a song, “I poured you a treat before your trip to Dr. Kimble.”
My boy put me down onto the floor and his mommy placed the dish in front of me. A wave of sickness ran through my body. All of a sudden, I could not look at the creamy stuff. I sniffed at it then turned very slowly toward my boy and looked up at him with my eyes dimmed.
“I don’t think she wants it, Mom,” he said looking back at me.
I swung my ears toward the sound of his mommy kneeling down behind me.
“I guess we can get going then,” she said.
I shuffled my body around to catch his mommy pour the creamy stuff into the kitchen bathtub. Then my boy gathered me in his arms again.
On my visits to the white coat, the boy prepared the carrier for me, as always, by putting down a few ripped-up towels as a mattress. Then he would usher me in with a few pats on my backside.
“Okay, I’m going to shut it now. Don’t get worried,” he said as he closed the shiny tic-tac-toe door in front of me.
Usually, I would lay on the towels in a crescent-shape but for this visit, I sat like the Sphinx. I could not let my skin rub against the towels’ stiffness. I had patches of fur missing. I got tufts of it in my mouth when I tongue-bathed myself one evening. I expected it to grow back but it did not. This caused some concern in my boy’s mommy. As for myself, I was slightly perturbed.
“I’m gonna lift you now, Mingus,” my boy said.
My claws extended into the towels as he lifted the carrier. I slid a bit but I maintained my posture. I heard the muffled sounds of the car-house door rumbling open and the loud roar of his mommy’s car-machine starting up. Through the tic-tac-toe door, I saw the bright sphere and my eyes adjusted. I longed to be frolicking amongst the grass and nibbling on the weedy stalks until I coughed them up but not in my weak condition. I was placed near my boy’s feet behind his mommy’s chair in the car-machine. I could see his shoes – a dull gray pair of sneakers with dark gray stripes. The floor beneath me vibrated and I put my head on my paws. My thoughts drifted sublimely into sleep.

****
A cool breeze tickled my chin as I shook myself to the awareness of my surroundings. I saw myself. A canopy of tall stalks enveloped me. Lines of light from the bright sphere, filtered through several openings. A shiver came up my back as I sat up. I licked my left side and then my right. I had a full coat of fur. My ears adjusted to the sounds as I swiveled them to and fro. I could faintly hear a familiar sound of a trumpet in the distance. I dimmed my eyes and focused. The ground was moist and cool beneath my paws. I filled myself with energy by firing up my senses. I quickly looked around to direct myself. My ears found the way and I was off! Flumes of mist flew from my feet as I ran swiftly toward the sound of the trumpet. The stalks brushed against my face as I barreled through, my claws digging into the ground, pushing me toward the source of the song. I knew I was getting closer and closer for the trumpet was joined by drums and piano as well as other horns. The stalks opened up and revealed the music box of my boy’s mommy, a plastic box with circles and flashing numbers on its face. I could see the shiny, silver disc spinning in the clear window next to the numbers. The song snaked its way into my ears. The song was “A Night in Tunisia” by Dizzy, the guy whom my boy called “Puffy Big Cheeks”. It was a cacophony of xylophone and rich trumpet. I sat in front of the music box and sat on my haunches. I bobbed my head to the beat. It was tongue-bathing music. I dug this stuff. The song faded and blended into another song “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat”, a slow tempo tune by Mingus, my namesake, which featured a deep boom-boom bass and sassy saxophone. I sat up and circled the plastic box then lay against it with my legs out. I could feel the beat of the bass on my fur and vibrating my whiskers. A musical massage! I dimmed my eyes and turned on my purr.

****

I jolted awake to find myself on my side, in a crescent position. A heat came from the walls. The carrier was exposed to the light of the bright sphere. I regained my Sphinx position. As I slept, my boy moved me next to him because I could see the middle of his body through the tic-tac-toe door where his shirt met his pants. I felt dizzy and my belly started to feel sour. I spoke up loudly. I think the movement of the car-machine was the cause.
“Mommy! Mingus is crying,” my boy said putting a hand on top of the carrier.
I could not stop moaning. I needed to breathe. It was hard to stay steady.
“Mommy!” he said again.
“Nicky, tell her we’re almost at Dr. Kimble’s,” his mommy said, muffled.
My boy put his face to the tic-tac-toe door and half-smiled. He then stuck his finger into one of the openings and tickled my nose. I felt only a little better.
“We’re almost there,” he whispered, “We just have to turn into the parking lot.”
He started to sniffle again and his face tightened. I looked up at him and then rubbed my nose against his fingertip and closed my eyes. He giggled.

When I arrived at the white coat’s room, my skin felt sore and tender. My boy lifted the carrier onto the soft, shiny table and opened the tic-tac-toe door. I rose to my feet slower than usual and focused my eyes on a large, dark hand reaching in. Then the ground started to slant and I gently slid onto the table. The hand caught me by the front paws and I hissed.
“Whoa there, Mindy!” a deep, booming voice said.
“Her name’s Mingus!” my boy screeched.
“Ah, I see,” the deep voice replied.
I shook my head and hissed again. The voice belonged to the white coat, who was a light-colored man with a thick face and thick hands. He wore looking glasses and I could see myself in them. My eyes were bigger in them and my nose was gigantic. He ran his hands over the length of my body, stopping at the parts that were damaged.
“Her skin is mighty scaly,” he said toward my boy’s mommy, “Looks like she had ctenocephalides felis… cat fleas.”
The mommy put one of her hands to her cheek.
“Fleas?” she said faintly.
“And,” the white coat added, turning my onto my side, “Her belly is distended.”
Distended? What did that mean? I hissed and the nausea came over me again. He pressed his hands on my tummy. I groaned.
“Are you hurting her?” my boy said with a shaky voice.
The white coat ignored his question as he pressed on and on. My claws were ready to come out and dig into his face but my energy was too low. I dimmed my eyes and let out a low groan from my throat.
“I think you should stop, Doctor. That’s a sound I never heard before,” the mommy said.
You bet I never made that sound! I have never been this closely looked at by a white coat. Mostly, it was a temperature backside poke and a tooth check-up, then home. I was becoming fussy. I breathed heavily and groaned. He then put in his ear-plugs with a rope and listened to my heart. He clicked his teeth and said, “Ok, what I can ascertain, folks, is that Mindy here…”
“Mingus!” my boy screeched.
“All right, kid. As I was saying, Mingus here had some fleas that came in contact with her... ahem… downstairs and now; she has a form of taenia taeniaeformis. A tapeworm,” the white coat said removing his earplugs.
“Fleas and tapeworm?!” his mommy said, “I guess I should of looked in my cat manual.”
“She probably got it from playing outside which I’m guessing she does frequently.”
I saw the mommy look away, “Yeah.”
“Is she also sluggish?”
“She’s not a slug!” my boy said, “You’re not a slug, Mingus.”
“Yes, she has been lately,” his mommy replied.
“Well, there you go,” the white coat confirmed, and then he sighed, “And also it’s been pretty hot this summer which is a breeding ground for those pests.”
He patted me on my head and that made me feel better.
“I will write up a prescription for some ointment and some pills for Mingus to take so she can flush out that worm,” he added.

When we finally got back into the car-machine, my boy put me next to him and pulled me out carefully from the carrier. His mommy put some of that white coat jelly on the rough spots before we left and that relaxed me. I curled up in his small lap and purred.
“Feel better, Mingus?” his mommy said to me from the front chair.
“She looks better,” my boy said.
“I guess this calls for some Miles,” she said fanning herself with the silver disk in her hand.
She slipped it into the music slit of the car-machine and the sweet beat of “Boplicity” by Miles Bitchy Brew entered my ears. I put my head on my paws and drifted back to my sublime world of tall stalks and moist air.