This is the first of your pieces on Substack that I've read and it was terribly sad yet enchanting. But then I read the last line which indicates, if I understood it correctly, that it really was written by "Miguel S." And here I was thinking that you must be a witch or sorceress whose brain is a storehouse for old and discarded cat fur. Whomever wrote it, you or Miguel S., has a deep and extremely personal relationship with the feline species. I hope it was you.
I am personally enthralled by puddies, and this latest young lady, this Priscilla, seems to view me as a very strange slave whom she manipulates with abandon, when she's in the mood.
I have found over the years that the loss of a cat friend and accomplice can be ameliorated by the introduction of a new cat-friend, hopefully a kitten with considerable charm, into my life. Kittens are God's remedy for sadness, and if your sadness continues, I would recommend that you let a "new to you" buddy into your life.
I wrote this poem for a word prompt challenge from Miguel S., who runs a fantastic Substack. Each day, he invites his readers to write a story, poem, or anything they choose within a specific word limit, with the only rule being that the piece must be centered around or include the word of the day.
I’ve always had cats in my life, and we currently have two older ones. Now, we’ve added a 10-week-old kitten to the mix. As a surprise, my wife brought home an adorable little male tabby, and while he’s completely charming, he’s also turned our household upside down—in the best, most chaotic way possible.
When I was in Peace Corps in a remote part of Malawi, I wound up with four kitten siblings (long story). The first I fed sweetened condensed milk, then maize mush with dried lake fish in it, then (his favorite) goat meat. There was no electric or phone in the house - it was indeed out 'in the bush' - and I was 3 or 4 hours from the nearest place I might be able to buy a toy baby bottle.
The second, one of the cats of my life, was also a boy who showed the markings, mascara eyes, narrow face and high ears of his mother, an African wild cat. In the cold evenings he'd climb up on me while i was reading and with great pleasure, give Daddy a lick on the nose. I loved him to pieces. The third and fourth were both girls, white and black tuxedos who were older when I got them and were experts at catching food.
On cold winter nights my pooch, a female great dane, would stretch out on the floor and soon have a line of kittens sleeping on top of her. My dog and the kittens framed my life and gave me great happiness, to be followed by great sadness when I had to give away my Pupu and my kittens to what I hoped would be good homes. I have fed my spirit, and my soul, from those times for many years now; they are an indelible part of who I am.
Your best poem, I think. It is deeply passionate and hilarious in a heartbroken way: "you were a celebrity weathercat, predicting hairballs with 80% accuracy and looking fabulous in a tiny necktie." Warren Zevon could've written the music. To be loved like that, it is the reason we want to be alive. Also, I met a new grimoire today...or newest, because it's still you! (Can I use grimoire that way?) I want to be reincarnated as your cat.
Another masterfully crafted Hallows Eve poem Gloria!
When I think of the cats I’ve owned over the years, I’m reminded of the dogs they lived with…becoming part of the pack, they acted as my dogs did, thought they all were the same, following me out to work in the garden, watching and waiting to follow me back to the house when finished. They ate when the dogs ate, drank water from the same bowl. All slept together, cats on large bodies mostly. Walked the same paths around the land, always in orderly file, mind you!
The pack was very large 1 wolf mix, 2- 200 plus pound English Mastiffs, along with a few lab-terroir-collie-Heinz 57 rescue mixes.
Gloria, I have to assume you’re a big fan of Rebecca Harkness. This is beautiful. May the silver Goddess of the Moon deliver us from our national nightmare.
Gloria, as long as you are casting spells.......do I need to tell you where ELSE you can cast a spell?
A Grimoire for Victory
E. Jean, you won’t believe what I’ve done—
I’ve conjured the stars, pulled down the sun.
By the moon’s pale glow, with a spell in my hand,
I’ve written Harris and Walz on the land.
From roots of old wisdom, in my grimoire’s embrace,
I’ve summoned a future that can’t be erased.
Incantations spun tight with purpose and might,
For Harris to lead us into the light.
I’ve stirred the cauldron with justice and fire,
Called winds of change, and spoke their desire.
Each spell, a whisper, a roaring decree—
E. Jean, this win is destiny.
The ballots will dance, the states will align,
Harris and Walz, their moment divine.
I’ve woven the magic, it’s done, can’t you see?
Victory’s written by you, and by me.
Brilliant!
Thank you. 🙏
Everyone whose life has ever been graced by the companionship of a cat knows the truth of this.
Sweetie Pie will always be my touchstone. Thank you, TC. It's healing to know others understand the powerful relationship between cat and person.
This is the first of your pieces on Substack that I've read and it was terribly sad yet enchanting. But then I read the last line which indicates, if I understood it correctly, that it really was written by "Miguel S." And here I was thinking that you must be a witch or sorceress whose brain is a storehouse for old and discarded cat fur. Whomever wrote it, you or Miguel S., has a deep and extremely personal relationship with the feline species. I hope it was you.
I am personally enthralled by puddies, and this latest young lady, this Priscilla, seems to view me as a very strange slave whom she manipulates with abandon, when she's in the mood.
I have found over the years that the loss of a cat friend and accomplice can be ameliorated by the introduction of a new cat-friend, hopefully a kitten with considerable charm, into my life. Kittens are God's remedy for sadness, and if your sadness continues, I would recommend that you let a "new to you" buddy into your life.
I wrote this poem for a word prompt challenge from Miguel S., who runs a fantastic Substack. Each day, he invites his readers to write a story, poem, or anything they choose within a specific word limit, with the only rule being that the piece must be centered around or include the word of the day.
I’ve always had cats in my life, and we currently have two older ones. Now, we’ve added a 10-week-old kitten to the mix. As a surprise, my wife brought home an adorable little male tabby, and while he’s completely charming, he’s also turned our household upside down—in the best, most chaotic way possible.
When I was in Peace Corps in a remote part of Malawi, I wound up with four kitten siblings (long story). The first I fed sweetened condensed milk, then maize mush with dried lake fish in it, then (his favorite) goat meat. There was no electric or phone in the house - it was indeed out 'in the bush' - and I was 3 or 4 hours from the nearest place I might be able to buy a toy baby bottle.
The second, one of the cats of my life, was also a boy who showed the markings, mascara eyes, narrow face and high ears of his mother, an African wild cat. In the cold evenings he'd climb up on me while i was reading and with great pleasure, give Daddy a lick on the nose. I loved him to pieces. The third and fourth were both girls, white and black tuxedos who were older when I got them and were experts at catching food.
On cold winter nights my pooch, a female great dane, would stretch out on the floor and soon have a line of kittens sleeping on top of her. My dog and the kittens framed my life and gave me great happiness, to be followed by great sadness when I had to give away my Pupu and my kittens to what I hoped would be good homes. I have fed my spirit, and my soul, from those times for many years now; they are an indelible part of who I am.
💔 I know those feelings all too well.
Sending you love and light
Thank you, Annette. I appreciate your kindness.
Your best poem, I think. It is deeply passionate and hilarious in a heartbroken way: "you were a celebrity weathercat, predicting hairballs with 80% accuracy and looking fabulous in a tiny necktie." Warren Zevon could've written the music. To be loved like that, it is the reason we want to be alive. Also, I met a new grimoire today...or newest, because it's still you! (Can I use grimoire that way?) I want to be reincarnated as your cat.
Wayne, you always, always make me smile!!!
This a powerful and solemn poem but contains a priceless image of humor involving dust bunnies and viagra.
Sweetie Pie was one of a kind. ❤️
Stanley Wotring: Yeah, the dust bunnies and viagra were funny!
❤️ 😭
Thank you 🙏
🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🌈🕯️
Thank you! 🙏
Loved this line Gloria - I feel you not in the spell, not in the smoke, but in the muscles of my jaw
Thank you. 🙏
Oh my.
Oh my.
Another masterfully crafted Hallows Eve poem Gloria!
When I think of the cats I’ve owned over the years, I’m reminded of the dogs they lived with…becoming part of the pack, they acted as my dogs did, thought they all were the same, following me out to work in the garden, watching and waiting to follow me back to the house when finished. They ate when the dogs ate, drank water from the same bowl. All slept together, cats on large bodies mostly. Walked the same paths around the land, always in orderly file, mind you!
The pack was very large 1 wolf mix, 2- 200 plus pound English Mastiffs, along with a few lab-terroir-collie-Heinz 57 rescue mixes.
Thank you, Patrick. Your herd? Magical!
“in this purgatory of perpetual paw prints on my heart.“ Oh, ouch. Oh, true.
❤️❤️❤️ it is.
I can’t imaging be what you are going through but your words are spell binding Another beautiful piece
Right back at you
❤️❤️❤️
Love you!!!
Gloria, I have to assume you’re a big fan of Rebecca Harkness. This is beautiful. May the silver Goddess of the Moon deliver us from our national nightmare.
Obsessed with her work!
🐈⬛ I miss my Kitty
I completely understand. 🫂
So moving “paw prints on my heart” paints the story I’ve felt too.
They never really leave us. ❤️