Category Archives: #poetswithcats

A Fedora Stand and Antique Photographs

Anthony Avina has published a guest post on his blog. I wrote about the time period of my memoir Scrap: Salvaging a Family and included anecdotes and photographs (antique or nearly so) not found in the book. Fedora stand explanation is found in the guest post!

GUEST POST BY LUANNE

I hope you enjoy reading about some of what didn’t make it into the book itself.

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Perry’s ashes were hand delivered to us by the cremation company. I cleared off a shelf to store them, his photo, and the picture book I used to read him every day when he was in the shelter.

Lily now lives alone on the kitchen side of the house with Sloopy Anne on the bedroom side. I wonder if Lily now regrets being so mean to Sloops because she’s suffering from loneliness and grief. I had to take her to the vet yesterday (yes, she has an urgent care open on Sundays) and get her fluids and Gabapentin because she wasn’t eating or pooping. She’s doing a little better with much TLC from the Gardener and me.

It’s my turn to sleep on the couch with her tonight because last night was the Gardener’s turn.

 

 

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My Saddest Blog Post

Three and a half years ago my soul mate cat Perry was diagnosed with both a serious heart issue and either IBD or GI cancer of some sort. At the time we thought he’d only have maybe a year. I was broken hearted to learn this because he was only seven years old.

We were blessed to actually get these 3 1/2 years instead. He required several medications. And he suffered with horrible diarrhea most days. But his love was strong so he hung on.

Until Tuesday night when he stopped eating and drinking and began to hide himself away. I realized that Perry was breathing rapidly with his mouth slightly open. The gardener and I were supposed to go on a business trip, so I told him to go without me–that I would stay and take care of Perry. Yesterday, I had to let the emergency vet put Perry out of current suffering. What I was told was that they had exhausted what they could for him, and that I could take him to a specialty emergency hospital. He probably had a few things wrong with him–pneumonia, congestive heart failure, maybe more. What that special ER visit would entail would be lots of nasty testing and then he would be hositalized for at least a few days–with a feeding tube. And the prognosis wasn’t good. I could see the vet was telling me something.

After conferring with the gardener who spoke with the vet on the phone, we decided we couldn’t let his sensitive soul suffer any longer when there was no hope of him actually getting well enough to enjoy life.

So on May 28, 2026. Perry, my very best friend, passed away.

If you don’t know, Perry was a stray in my yard nine years ago. We trapped him in a trapping cage and got him neutered. Then I brought him to the animal rescue where the gardener and I both volunteered. I visited every day and read him his favorite Curious George book. But he seemed feral in that setting, and the rescue asked me to find another place for him as he was too difficult to care for. So I bought a 3 tier cage and brought him home. He stayed in that cage until he felt comfortable hanging out in the room. For two months I read and sang to him for a few minutes every waking hour. I held his bowl while he ate.

Finally one day while he was hiding under the bed and I put my hand toward him, he rubbed against my hand. Then I knew he was not really feral, just a very very scared and neglected stray cat who had been infested with worms and whose paws were thickly callused. Perry’s soulful eyes and gentle but commanding personality quickly made him my favorite cat of all time. He was the most unique and more like a toddler than a cat sometimes.  We became a team, Perry and Mama. And more recently when my grandson Hudson would lie on the couch with me Perry would squeeze his way between us all the while licking us both to show that although he had to come first with Mama, he loved Hudson, too.

I wrote this poem when Perry was first diagnosed, and it was published in a small journal that is defunct.

Perry

I call my other cats dear heart names–
Tiger Queenie Princess Mimi
and Meeskeleh Meeskeleh Meeskerelli.
Lily Billy Peaches and Cream.
Perry is Perry.
Perry is a cartoon cat.
He’s Tom of Tom and Jerry.
My other cats look like regular cats.
Those cats hobble into old age
with arthritis and newfound
appreciation for my help.
Perry ignores all boundaries.
He carries his octopus, fish, and squid
upstairs and down, wherever we are.
He stares at the others for attention.
My other cats lie on the couch back,
the chair, the bed, or in the new box.
Perry lies tummy up in the crook
of my arm for the length of a movie.
When I’m mad at my husband I say
I’ll divorce you and marry Perry!
Perry is only lucky number seven.
The others are elderly and wise.
Perry has been imaged inside and out.
He doesn’t know what we saw,
and I can’t feel what I saw, or
I won’t be able to breathe, so I say
Perry is Perry.

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Filed under #poetswithcats, Cats and Other Animals

Still Reeling from Last Week

Last week was a tough one, not because anything bad happened. It was just a lot for me physically and even mentally.

We celebrated Mother’s Day a week late at my son and DIL’s house. Son and SIL made fish tacos and daughter made guacamole and gluten free raspberry almond cake. But all day I felt a bit off, as if I was going to get a vestibular migraine attack. In case you are coming late to this VM stuff, it’s not a headache–I used to get regular migraine headaches until they morphed into the annihilator weapon of migraines. They are all kinds of awful, and while it’s going on I am lying there covering my vision and hearing with pillows, sweating up a storm, and wishing I were dead. And vomiting. In total, there are about twenty symptoms.

But I didn’t get one that day or the next. I got it on Tuesday and wasted the whole day doing the above (pillows, sweat, symptoms, etc.). Then my daughter brought her two kitties over for me to babysit while she and hubby went to Hawaii (something wrong with this situation).

Wednesday my grandson got out of school for the summer. His camp doesn’t start until today, so guess who had him all the while I was still shaky and walking around in migraine glasses, not thinking clearly.

However, we had FUN.

On Friday, Hudson was in one of those two-year-old moods where he wanted his stuffie and binky more than just naptime. In this photo, I asked him to take out the binky for one second to have his picture taken. This is the shot he gave me.

We took him to Dairy Queen, and I told him ahead of time he had to leave the binky at home but he could take his stuffie friend. When I said it was time to go to the car he carefully tucked both items in “his” drawer and pointed out to me that he was leaving the stuffie, TOO. He was so proud of himself.

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT SCRAP: SALVAGING A FAMILY

Below is an update of the book tour for Scrap: Salvaging a Family. I am sharing a quote from each blog post in the hopes that as a whole they give a good idea of what it’s like to read the book and what you would find inside the front and back cover. Here are the links with a quote from each:

Tour Schedule for Scrap: Salvaging a Family (memoir in flash):

March 21: Joy Neal Kidney (review)

[T]he father of the author, an unpredictable, frightening, and sometimes violent man who often took out his rage on Luanne, his only daughter. What a complicated childhood, one without answers . . . . [The] answers finally seeped out later in life, with both father and daughter attempting to make sense of the complicated scraps of their shared past. The author bravely gives glimpses of early years, therapy years, and later years with candor and compassion, and amazing resilience.

March 23: Liz Gauffreau, (review)

The memoir has been structured with intention and a high level of craft in its component parts.The three sections of Scrap follow the narrative arc of a three-act play: “Early Years” as set-up, “Therapy” as confrontation, and “Later Years” as resolution. Similarly, the mode of expression for each section is well-aligned with its content: flash for “Early Years,” interrogative dialog for “Therapy,” and narrative prose for “Years Later.” There are also poems to provide even more emotional depth in key places. Some of the flash pieces are “imaginings,” when Castle puts herself in Rudy’s and her beloved grandmother’s place as another step on the path to insight and understanding.

March 24: Marie Ann Bailey, (review)

Early on in Scrap, we are introduced to Rudy’s “wolf teeth” and “wolf mask.” Later, we are horrified by bouts of his physical and emotional violence. And yet there are moments of tenderness, of love. And moments of Rudy’s pain and suffering that Luanne excavates for us. Luanne gives voice to her father’s own difficult childhood, his concerns for the starving children he came across while serving in Korea, his relationship with his grandchildren. Rudy is a complicated man but isn’t every man complicated? Isn’t every woman complicated? And don’t they become less complicated the more we understand them?

March 25: John W. Howell, (excerpt–below is the first section of the excerpt)

Daddy moves his workbench to the garage by hoisting the heavy counter up the stairs on a dolly. He lets me carry a leg, but when I stumble, he says I should just watch. He removes all the tools, the scrap wood, even the army sleeping bags from the basement. The space heater in the garage makes the new workshop too dangerous for me. The elves abandon us. Daddy drives home a truckload of cement blocks and carries each brick down the stairs by himself. Each brick holds a secret that I can’t share with anyone. He stacks the blocks in a quadrant-shaped domino pattern, building walls two bricks deep. Without mortar, the bricks resemble my wooden blocks. Rosemary Clooney croons for us to come to her house.

March 30: Miriam Hurdle, (companion story by Luanne–below is first paragraph)

Dad held the blanketed bundle in his arms as if it were a baby. When he unwrapped the violin, I murmured in anticipation, reaching out to stroke the reddish-brown wood. Dad urged me to be careful but nodded at my eagerness. He asked if I knew what it was.

March 31: Review Tales (review)

One of the memoir’s greatest strengths is its refusal to simplify reconciliation. Forgiveness here is not sentimental. It is gradual, complicated, and earned through insight. As the daughter learns about her father’s early life and hidden history, empathy emerges—not as weakness, but as strength. The book becomes a meditation on how knowledge reshapes memory and how understanding can soften even deeply embedded wounds.

April 2: the bookworm (review)

This was my first time reading a memoir written entirely in poetry (sic) and I was fascinated by it. Luanne Castle shares her life from childhood through present. Highlighted is her relationship with her family, her mother, her brother and in particular her father. As I read I thought how brave she is for putting these personal experiences on the page. Her poetry is beautiful and moving and I found several favorite lines.

April 9: Ashley’s Books, Cozy Home Delight (review)

It is fascinating to see how a person grows into themselves when they did not come from a perfect or even safe environment. She shows that it is possible to come from something painful and still become someone whole. That part stayed with me just as much as the harder moments did.

April 13: What’s That Book About (guest post by Luanne)

In the version of Little Red that I concocted in my head, the wolf hid inside of my father and only showed himself when my father became red-faced and angry. That’s when his big wolf teeth would pop out: “the wolf teeth inside him are shifty and unpredictable” (p. 12). When that happened, Little Red needed to look out! That I was Little Red was obvious to me as I felt small and innocent and helpless.

April 15: Tabi Thoughts(review)

Scrap is also beautifully honest and vulnerable, especially considering it addresses topics that are difficult to write about. As someone who also wants to one day write about difficult, confusing, challenging yet transformative memories, I really appreciate Luanne’s ability to share her story so openly while also exploring multiple perspectives. Luanne’s writing felt intimate, almost like reading journal entries or flipping through a scrapbook of memories which gives it a raw and reflective tone. What stood out most to me was her relationship with her father. It was powerful reading about how she navigated the pain of his shortcomings while acknowledging his own pain and how his childhood shaped him as a parent.

April 23: Lavender Orchids (review)

What stayed with me most was how the form mirrors the content. The fragments feel intentional, like the only honest way to tell this story. Childhood here isn’t softened or romanticised. It’s confusing, sometimes tender, often unsettling. The writing doesn’t over-explain, and that restraint works in its favour. You’re not told how to feel, but you feel it anyway.

April 27: The Reading Bud (review)

Scrap: Salvaging a Family by Luanne Castle is a fragmented, lyrical, and emotionally precise memoir that sifts through family memory, inherited shame, childhood fear, and the difficult work of understanding a parent without excusing the harm they caused. Written as a “memoir in flash,” the book is built out of short, vivid pieces, named as scraps of childhood, domestic scenes, remembered violence, questions, photographs, family stories, documents, and imagined reconstructions, all stitched together into something devastating and incredibly artful.

May 4: Chelsea’s Books (review)

Castle’s writing is beautiful. I love the “memoir in flash” style, each vignette is tight and succinct without an unnecessary word and yet they are so profound. I was really taken with her ability.

May 4: Smorgasbord (excerpt–below is the first paragraph of the excerpt)

In the spring, we run like besieged villagers from the DDT planes following us down the street, our parents’ warnings sirening in our heads, the nose-tingling smell of gasoline pelting our hair and our jackets. Come summer, the onslaught is more insidious as plumes chugged out by the smokestacks at the pill factory coat the sky, masking the stink of the city dump behind the houses on our side of the street.

May 6: Brotman Blog (review)

Have you ever picked up a book, not knowing what to expect, and become so wrapped up in the story and the writing that you just don’t want to put it down? That was my experience  reading Luanne Castle’s newest book Scrap: Salvaging a Family. From the first page until I finished it, I was spellbound.

May 7: The Reading Bud (interview with Luanne)

 I do love taking workshops. My husband jokingly calls me a “professional student.” The constraints involved with writing to prompts assigned by someone else stimulate my imagination and keep me focused so that I don’t have too many decisions to make. The routine is to sit in front of the computer and start writing when I can find at least a half hour. Kitchen or office, it doesn’t matter, although the kitchen is easier because I can keep an eye on what else needs doing. I’ve never really had long periods of solitude to write. Maybe that’s why I tend to write poetry and flash.

May 14: True Book Addict (guest post by Luanne)

Ten years into wrestling with Scrap, I started to write flash fiction. Flash fiction isn’t a shorter than usual short story, but its own genre. Flash fiction has as much in common with poetry as it does with short stories. After I felt comfortable with flash, I realized that flash nonfiction made more sense than chapters to me as a vehicle for my memories. And once I opened my mind to flash for memoir, I realized that a hybrid or combination of genres could also be useful. For instance, much of the reflection in Scrap is told through mini “essays” where I directly discuss certain memories and revelations.

May 15: Storyteller Poetry Review (review and excerpts)

Fellow Arizonian, Luanne Castle is a masterful storyteller so it was no surprise to me when I couldn’t put down her unique well written memoir, “Scrap: Salvaging a Family,” until I had read it from cover to cover.  With powerful and poignant poems and flash fiction she tells the story of her chaotic childhood in description and dialogue so vivid it was like watching a movie.

May 19: True Book Addict (review)

What can I say about such a wonderful and poignant memoir, and so uniquely told through flash non-fiction? I do not read many memoirs. I would read more if they were written like this one. If I ever write one, you can be sure that I will approach in a similar way.

May 20: Merril D. Smith (review)

I read it through in one afternoon. I couldn’t stop; I was so caught up in the story! The book begins with the revelation that her father was a bastard. Castle explains the several meanings of the word, and how in the time and place in which her father grew up, it was a stigma that left him shamed and angry. To me, it seems that secrecy more than illegitimacy produced generations of suffering. Castle’s father’s father was a well-respected doctor who not only had this secret family, but who also doctored his own past.

May 21: The Book Connection (review)

Wow! This memoir doesn’t tug at the heartstrings. It plucks them hard and snaps a few. Scrap: Salvaging A Family is deep, it’s emotional, it cracks open family secrets, and it explores family hardships that impact generations. Masterfully written, readers follow one woman’s examination of her childhood trauma brought on by events that occurred well before she was born.

May 26: Author Anthony Avina (review)

May 28: Author Anthony Avina (guest post)

There are also a few beautiful reviews on Goodreads and Amazon that are not part of the blog tour. I use the term “blog tour” loosely meaning if it appeared on a blog or by a bookstagrammer, then it’s part of the tour.

BUT LET ME ASSURE YOU SCRAP NEEDS MORE REVIEWS ON AMAZON AND GOODREADS AND IF THEY EVER FIX MY DISTRIBUTION CONNECTION ON BOOKBUB, TOO.

EBOOK AND PAPERBACK AVAILABLE HERE

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Kitty No-News News and Other Updates

I know I haven’t written about my kitties for a long time, so I thought I would update about them. We have four, all seniors.

Perry, my true love and favorite fur person (only rivaled by dearly departed Pear Blossom). I won’t say much as I don’t like to “jinx” anything. Gray and white, medium-long-haired.

Sloopy Anne, my best little girl who sleeps with the gardener and me. One of our other cats (Lily) hates Sloopy Anne with a passion, so we have a gate dividing our house in half. Sloops lives in the bedroom half. Tortico–tortoisehell from the top and calico from the bottom.

Lily, one of my son’s cats who I took in. She is so mean to Sloopy so Lily is confined to the front half of the house. The reason this is fair is because Lily is a dominant cat in great need of human touch and companionship. Sloopy is more reticent and happy in back. If the gardener sits down, Lily climbs on his chest up to his neck and sticks there like velcro. She can’t get through the gate because she’s fat. Orange and white long-haired who knows she’s beautiful.

Meesker, the other one of my son’s cats. He’s shy and was bullied by Lily for years, so for the last couple of years he’s lived in the back of the house with Sloopy Anne. However, just recently, he decided he likes it out front with Perry. Lily doesn’t dare bully Meesker out here because Perry keeps her in line. Perry is the benevolent king. Meesker is so skinny (GI issues) that he slides between the bars of the gate we put up so he can come and go as he pleases. (Actually so can Perry when he really really wants to do it). All black with black whiskers and toe beans.

The boys, Perry and Meesker:

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The wonderful journal Gone Lawn has published two of my micros: “Nature’s Ways” and “The New Girl.” The first one is fanciful. The second is kind of heart-breaking. It’s in honor of all the new girls who didn’t come into a school with the best clothes or nurturing.

https://gonelawn.net/journal/issue61/Castle.php

“Nature’s Ways” begins this way:

Ethel hoisted herself off the old, webbed chair with one hand and a sigh, grabbed her muddy gloves, and slipped on wet grass toward the garden at the back wall. Her dear Buttercup had passed in her arms the day before, and her enthusiasm for her garden, even life itself, had seemed to die with the little marmalade cat.

“The New Girl” begins this way:

The school secretary handed you off to Miss Dixon, as if you were a slippery, prickery, stinky fish, and you sat in that front row seat where nobody else wanted to sit and didn’t look around so everybody could stare at you until lunch, and I admit I was no different, noting your limp faded dress,

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Two of my micros were finalists in a contest by The Ekphrastic Review. 

You can find them at:

https://www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-review/perfect-ten-marathon-flash-fiction-finalists-and-winner

If you go to that link you will find all the finalist stories as well as the winning story.

Here are the two inspiring art pieces that I wrote from with beginnings of the stories.

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Rogue Agent published two of my collages at https://www.rogueagentjournal.com/lcastle  along with a written description of each collage and some comments I make about them.

These collages were inspired by Sylvia Plath poems. The first, “Feverish,” is based on the poem “Fever 103.” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/29479/fever-103

This is one of my favorite poems ever. I hope you give it a read! Plath wrote it after she had been plagued by with a high fever for quite some time.

The other collage, “What a Thrill,” was inspired by the Plath poem, “Cut.”

https://allpoetry.com/poem/8498445-Cut-by-Sylvia-Plath

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Review of Robert Okaji’s Our Loveliest Bruises

Robert Okaji’s new poetry collection Our Loveliest Bruises can be considered his greatest work, truly a magnum opus. The spare language belies the beautiful compelling imagery as it probes the depths of emotion.

Some of the poems have been published in various literary journals and anthologies, but the book is a tightly woven project of loss and grief. Okaji uses the Japanese bamboo flute shakuhachi as a metaphor for these emotions. Throughout the book, in various poems, the poet breathes his life force into the holes of the instrument, producing notes which are akin to his poems. The holes represent the absences of loss. Eventually, in “Self-Portrait as Shakuhachi,” the poet becomes the flute: “How easy to let air / slide through oneself.”

The poet’s mother’s ghost is a recurring character. She does not communicate, but there is a sense of competition between the two. The imagery in these poems is rough and realistic. There is a sense of profound regret, but also of love. From “Ghost, with a Line from Porchia”:

Your battle with language, with silence, invoked.
I stretch the word and weave this dirge for you.

Some poems address a “you,” and I believe in many cases this person is his mother’s ghost. But it could mean the poet himself. There are instances in some poems that point out the brief nature of life itself or are a merging of mother and self and perhaps even a universal human message. “Each day lived is one less to live,” Okaji writes in “Mother’s Day.”

Robert Okaji has written an extraordinary account of the “loveliest bruises” we experience from the love we have for loved ones, of self, of life itself.

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Bob Okaji blogs at O at the Edges. If you haven’t read his blog you might not realize that Bob was diagnosed with late stage metastatic lung cancer. He has posted a couple of times on his blog about his illness. He continues to do well, although he doesn’t always feel that great.

Bob is the person who first introduced me to the Tupelo 30/30 poem challenge. I think that challenge really motivated me into writing more and more poetry.

Click the link to Bob’s blog so you can send him some good vibes. And then, if you can, click the link to his gorgeous book.

Our Loveliest Bruises

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One of My Favorite Things at Silver Birch Press

Silver Birch Press has a new series, My Favorite Things. In such fraught times moments of joy are so important. So without further ado, here are one of my favorite things, my boots:

With My Boots On by Luanne Castle (MY FAVORITE THINGS Series)

SOMEONE ELSE WHO LOVED HIS BOOTS

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Missing My Cats

If you’ve been reading this blog for some time you may remember the year of cat rainbow heaven (2021). In July of that year, my daughter’s cat Isabella Rose passed.  We had a close relationship because we used to babysit her at our house a lot. Perry loved to watch over her, so we called him the babysitter. When Izzie suffered a sudden and never diagnosed illness and was failing, my daughter asked me to come to the emergency vet so I could say goodbye. When I got there, the on-call vet pressured us to let him euthanize her before she coded. They never told us what was wrong. We all–but especially my daughter–still miss her a lot.

A month later we lost our sweet sweet boy Felix.

A month after that my heart completely broke with the loss of the amazing love (and nurse to all who are sick–human, cat, dog), Pear Blossom.

Pear Blossom

What a difficult year. But what followed was a worse year. Heart-rending family troubles, and the loss of Tiger Queen Princess Mimi. I wrote a hybrid poem/story/journal that is mostly nonfiction (some time elements were shifted, etc.). You could call it hybrid nonfiction/fiction. Founder and Editor of the new journal Feed the Holy, Barbara Harris Leonhard has published this piece today. I hope you cry a little, but then can smile.

https://feedthehol.blogspot.com/2025/01/journal-from-year-after-several-of-my.html?fbclid=IwY2xjawH19mdleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHS2KrLj8JUWfD6FmONxP1g60hnuILFReTWuxPMg9acU9U853ncR4UKxfuQ_aem_m7QeVSF3ab1C2nV4sZbXcw

Tiger on the piano

If you’re still reading you can also find three of my collages at the journal Thimble. Yay!!! You can find them all at this link. Let me know which one you like best if you have time to check them out!

https://www.thimblelitmag.com/author/lcastle/

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I Need a Cat at MasticadoresUSA

 

 

A big thank you to Editor Barbara Harris Leonhard at MasticadoresUSA for publishing my fun cat fantasy based on an assignment from first grade that I found (and Barbara published here–I will post below) and stimulated by a painting used as a prompt (but not enough to credit in the story) from a wonderful workshop by Lorette C. Luzajic and Meg Pokrass. The workshop was about guilty pleasures, and one of mine is cats!!!

 

“I Want a Cat” by Luanne Castle

My parents adopted my brother two years later, but in the meantime, I did get a black kitten from the family across the street whose cat had kittens. My mother named my cat Toby.

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My Life Lately

On Friday I picked up a navy gift bag of Kana’s cremains from the vet’s office. The ashes are in a little cedar box, and they came with a pawprint and two tiny vials of fur marked “Kana Castle.” I’m going to order a little brass plate for the box, just as I did for Tiger Queenie Princess Mimi, Felix, Pear Blossom, and Macavity. Of course, I took photos of everything, but I won’t trigger you by posting them! Everything is on the bookshelf altar of my late furbabies.

The wonderful Cleaver Magazine has published a flash story I wrote about being a medical student on “Grand Rounds” with a mentor/teacher doctor: Another Week Left of Grand Rounds with Dr. Webber

The flash editor Kathryn Kulpa worked with me on little revisions. She was very helpful. Her new chapbook was just released, and I ordered it, but it hasn’t arrived yet. Here is her book launch: For Every Tower, a Princess book launch You can hear little short readings from some of the other Cleaver faculty.

The baby goes to “school” part-time, and Grandpa and I have him part-time. He is very active, preferring to be crawling rather than sitting still, and standing rather than crawling, climbing rather than standing, and he can’t wait to walk on his own, which he can already do while holding my hands. He turned 8 months old Thursday. I set up 3 electric jack o’lanterns to get him used to Halloween! He LOVES his swim lessons. He even will float on his back with one hand under the back. And if I ask him if he likes school, he laughs a gleeful sound. He doesn’t say anything yet, but I am working on “grandma” being his first word. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It’s been hard to write, between the baby, my painful legs (tendinitis all over), and lots of other life stuff going on, but I plan to take Kathy Fish’s Immersion tomorrow. It’s a 3 day writing party that is free if you are a paid subscriber to Kathy’s substack, which I am. The Art of Flash Fiction Sign up if you want to join me there Sunday, Monday, Tuesday!!!

 

 

 

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Mourning a Courageous Spirit

I spoke too soon in my Kitty Cat Update post last week. Sadly, one of my cats has passed away. Here is my eulogy about Kana.

Our girl Kana has gone to meet her furfam over the rainbow: Pear Blossom, Felix, Tiger, and Isabella Rose. The first night in early 2015 when the Gardener and I started volunteering in the cat room at the shelter, Kana was in a cage and pushed herself into the front corner, against the wires, begging me to take her home. At the time, I couldn’t do that because Mac was sick and needed a lot of care, and we had other cats as well. Kana waited for us for months because the progression of Mac’s illnesses dragged on. Nobody asked to spend any time with her. The shelter sent her to PetSmart, hoping someone would take an interest in her. Nobody wanted an 8-year-old black cat, and I saw her get more and more depressed. As soon as Mac passed, I picked up Kana from the shelter. By this time, she was very cantankerous and didn’t even want to go home with me any longer. We discovered that she not only had IBD, but the ultrasound showed that at one point her back had been broken. She lived with chronic pain. After a few months, Kana realized that she was home, and that she could relax. Her final illnesses really took a lot out of her. We now realize she was in a LOT of pain and feeling very sick, but she was always brave and fierce, a real hero.

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