Bob and Cat (A Science-Fiction Fantasy)

Here comes the wind from the east. A rare and wild experience.
The invisible touch of the hand of god. Made by the mind of man.
What pristine paradise this is. What unworldly world, a calculated dream.
Such vagrant greens stagger my mind. Now where is that cat of mine?

And what have I gotten into, this garb. This gun, this algal scum.
Am I the Prowler in Paradise? The Caterpillar in Kingdom Vegetabilia?
What horrors will I unleash upon this pit of photosynthesis? Oh sun!
Oh shadows of the canopy. Children of algae and fungi!

What use are these pastures when none are pasturing? These shrubs?
When none are shrubbing? No mossing amongst the mosses?
This vile unviolated bovine viand. Where is the adder of Eden?
Is it I, Lord, is it I? And where is that hound of a cat?

Ah, there up the tree! With the dogs, three, as prospected.
And as practised, three, with the trigger. A tail, a entrail, a cuspid.
Alright, hunt is over, everyone up! We're going home, I'm hungry.
That farting dogbot called Jack. Tsk! I think I'll keep her.