Cat owners will know the niggling worry when a wandering feline doesn’t return at the expected time. Usually you shrug it off and the cat turns up a few hours later, quashing your exclamations of relief with a look of withering contempt.
Today’s been a day when that slight nagging worry turned into panic when a neighbour saw Dudley hiding and obviously injured. A day of moral support and kindness as good friends and neighbours rallied to help us track him down, and a growing sense of foreboding about just how quiet he was in the car on the way to the emergency vets. And the worst news an hour later, that his injuries – probably caused by a car – were not going to be treatable.
The last year and a bit has been so much happier for being shared with our cocky, confident and affectionate Brexit Cat, who has scrapped continually with every other cat on the street, whilst simultaneously making best friends with all their owners. It’s been a pleasure watching his journey from inquisitive new arrival to chilled out master of the house whose praises we quite literally sang, as he lounged in the sunniest armchair with his paws shading his eyes. It was a journey that I wish had lasted longer.
Sleep tight Duds. We’ll miss you.
Words made of wood,
what is, what’s said, what’s done.
Where are the words that catch the rainbows in the waterfall mist?
Or paint the whoops of wild laughter as my daughters dance?
photo by Tim Savage at pexels.com
It’s coming. Get back to your room before the lights go out. Don’t look back. That’s what it wants. Remember which one is your door? Run.
So Helen’s prompt for this week was a song about predicting the future, or fortune telling. Folks, I’ve got nothing. No inspiration whatsoever. So I’m just going to share a random song I was listening to this evening. I blame the fact that my kids did this (and more) to the kitchen in a baking session this afternoon, I’ve been trying to repair the damage for the last six hours and I’m on my third glass of wine.
baking day at the kirstwrites ranch
This week Helen’s challenge was to come up with a song about revenge. I don’t know if that’s what this song is actually about. The lyrics are a bit cryptic, and there are various alternative interpretations offered by Stone Roses fans on the type of websites where people have serious discussions about what song lyrics mean. Continue reading
I’ve been writing a lot lately about my favourite First World War poet, Wilfred Owen, (here and here if you’re interested, or go check out the forthcoming Wilfred Owen film, the Burying Party on Facebook) but today I’m giving a shout out to his best friend and mentor, Siegfried Sassoon, who was born on this day in 1886. So in honour of his 131st birthday, here’s one of my favourite Sassoon poems. Continue reading
Nothing lasts forever.
But God knows, Mother and Father had tried to preserve those childhood memories. Scrap books, photo albums, shoe boxes stuffed with old birthday cards. In the last few years, Carol had begun to feel that the actual physical presence of all the stuff was giving the elderly couple more comfort than her own infrequent, irritable visits. Continue reading