Mewsette in Writers Society
Essays and Writing, Page 4

February 2004

Ode to my Groundhog

I saw you standing there today
And when you looked the other way,
Your profile was so sweet
That I was fascinated, then
You turned your furry head again,
And moved your dainty feet.

Oh, in your fine, upstanding form
There beat a heart, I'm sure, so warm.
Your eyes, they gleamed and twinkled,
Meeting, burning into mine,
Your little ears, so soft and fine,
Your little nose so wrinkled.

Then e'en the sun came out to smile -
I hadn't seen it for awhile,
It being winter's season.
But oh, you nearly fell down dead,
Your shadow filled you with such dread,
For no apparent reason!

You ran into a dark hole, yet
To lose you when we'd barely met
Has filled me with such sorrow.
Oh, please come back, I'll miss you so!
For sadly, if you don't, I know
That Winter will tomorrow.

March

The Liberated George Sand

I love to read about the really scandalous women of history. They are, by far, the most interesting, and usually had very good reasons for being scandalous or else became so through no fault of their own. It wasn't much easier to be a woman in ages past than it was to be a cat.

George Sand was such a woman; yes, in spite of using a man's name. She scandalised 19th century Paris, and probably enjoyed it immensely! George Sand has been called the first modern, liberated woman. She wore men's clothing (more comfortable!), traveled widely, led an adventurous life, and became one of the most prolific - and best - writers of her day. She lived and wrote in the same time period of Dostoevkii, Tolstoi, Flaubert, Balzac and Proust. and her works influenced theirs. She was called "the most remarkable writer of the present century." That she certainly was. She wrote 70 novels, 24 plays, memoirs, essays, short stories, fairy tales, and over 40,000 letters that we know of. She took great pleasure in her work and, probably, also in the fact that some of her books were controversial. "My profession", she said, "is to be free."

Who was this remarkable woman? She was born Amandine Aurore Lucile Dupin in Paris in 1804, and she lived until 1876. She was surely one of the most accomplished and memorable women of the 19th century. But her real legacy is also her forceful personality and her lifetime search for ways to be a liberated woman. Even this far away from her time, her voice has never been stilled.

She married young and had two children, but she didn't like the husband she was stuck with. So she left her family in Nohant, the serene chateau in central France that belonged to her, and went to seek the literary life in Paris in 1830. In the years that followed, she had several love affairs, including a long-time affair with her great love and the great composer, Frederic Chopin. She was a personal friend of Franz Listz, and many other famous writers, poets and composers of her time.

George Sand played a very important role in the 19th century evolution of the novel. She was accused of many things, because of the controversial nature of some of her writing, but the accusations were not proven. It was common in that century to assume that a woman could only write from personal experience. That was wrong. She settled back in her home, Nohant, in her older years, but never stopped traveling and writing.

"The world will know and understand me someday," she said. "But if that day does not arrive, it does not matter. I shall have opened the way for other women."

If no man could own such a woman as George Sand, could a cat own her? Yes, and it seems that she did not mind. There may have been some discussion about who owned who, but the cat who shared her life was named Minou. I am sure Minou was there, and the one anecdote I found to prove it is that George Sand and Minou ate their breakfast from the same bowl. Does this sound like George Sand? It sure does to me.

Auntie Mame's Limerick

Auntie Mame had a family of Patricks,
And lived a life full of theatrics.
Nobody could tame her
And none would dare blame her
For avoiding her own geriatrics.

Panic in Prison

Do you want to hear a horrifying true story? Have I ever been in a panic? Well, yes, lots of times. I forget how many. I'm a calico, and calicos can be bundles of raw nerves. Maybe we panic easily. But I'll never forget the worst one!

Long ago and far away, when I was only 12 (the age my little sisfur will be soon), we lived in a nice little house on top of a mountain. I loved it there; it was purrfect. Life wasn't, but my house was. I was starting to settle down after 4 years of trying and failing to convince my mom I was not cut out to be an indoor cat. That's another story, never mind. Then, one purrfectly nice day in late summer, that started out like any other day, turned into Panic Day.

The first thing I noticed was all three cat carriers lined up on the kitchen counter. I thought I knew what that meant; my mom was gonna take all three of us girls to the vet at once. Was she nuts? I was enough of a handful all by myself. But she'd been doing strange things for weeks, like packing all the books in boxes and stacking them up. What was she gonna read? Putting all the pots and pans in cartons. How was she gonna cook? Boxes, boxes everywhere. But I was still young and limber; I liked the new high places to survey my Queendom from. My gene for "suspicious" hadn't kicked in yet. I was slipping.

No, we weren't going to the vet. We were gonna be locked up in prison! And I was the first to get locked up because at least I was the hardest to fool. Then my furmama got locked up next to me, and even my sisfur, who was still too young to suspect such a horrible fate, got locked up. And the Panic began. My mom let some big men into the house, who started carrying all the boxes and all our furniture out of it! We, in our prisons, got left in a bedroom till they got to that room, too. Then we got moved back to the kitchen counter. I was in a frenzy. I was terrified! And I was never a quiet cat to begin with.

I shrieked, I howled, I cried, I thrashed around in my prison. I called down the wrath of the cat gods on everyone in the house, and it did no good. I rubbed all the fur off my nose on the bars of the carrier, and no one took pity on me. I even feigned hyperventilating to get out of there. My mom just shut the house doors and told the men to stop, took me out and stared in my eyes and my mouth, held me and crooned at me a little bit (it did Not help!), gave me a drink of water, and shoved me right back in my prison!

And the horrible men carried stuff out of my house until it was empty! Then I heard a truck drive away, and my mom finally let me out of prison. Oh yes, and let my furmama and my sisfur out of theirs, too. What they had been so quiet about all that time, I don't know! First we all ran to see if our litter boxes were still there. Thank goodness, they were! So were our food and water dishes. But where were we going to sleep, on the cold hard floor?

Then (you won't believe this!) when we wasn't looking, our formerly trustworthy mom picked us up and put us back in prison!! Me first, of course! And she carried the few things left out to put them in her car. Even our litter boxes!! That's when I screamed like a banshee. I just knew somehow I was gonna die! Last of all, she carried us girls in our prisons out and put us in the car too. I got the front seat space cause Mom was looking at me awful worried. And we started driving. And we drove and we drove. Fur hours. I screamed all the way. My furmama pooped in her prison to show what she thought of all this. My sisfur didn't have any better sense than to be quiet the whole way. I hadn't taught her enough yet.

Finally, after my mom had stopped at the side of the road twice to quiet me down and told me I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn't quit it, (I didn't quit!) we stopped in front of a strange house. A big white one. It wasn't mine. And we all got carried in there. Some of our stuff was there, like our extra beds that had disappeared days back. Mom carried in all the rest. And finally, finally, we got released from prison! There was a lot to investigate in this new place, and there was a second shorter imprisonment to go through the next day, when the men brought back all our furniture they took away from us. From there, it was a new place and new stories. But Panic Day was over.

April Poem

A Life of Days

On a sunny Sunday, I considered what I've got.
A loving home, the softest beds, I really have a lot.
I get the best of food and care, I'm pampered as can be,
They made this sunny Sunday just for me.

On a rainy Monday, when it's dripping dismal grey,
I crawl into my meowmie's lap and stay for half the day.
If ever I need comforting, her arms are what I see.
They gave a meowmie full of love to me.

On a Tuesday, when I slept right through the afternoon,
I'm greeted by an evening sky, a big and bright full moon.
As if I had the slightest doubt of my tranquility,
They hung that full moon up there just for me.

On a Wednesday in the middle of an April week,
I realize how every day is special and unique.
And isn't it a wonder how they follow merrily,
Always bringing something good for me.

On a Thursday morning somehow lacking in delight,
I wake and reminisce about my dreams throught the night.
I've had a long and happy life, my dream's the memory.
The morning smiles contentment just for me.

On a shady Friday, when the breeze blows in the door,
I lift my face in welcome, cause that's what the breeze is for.
And I reflect upon my life, so long and fine and free,
It blew a lot of happiness to me.

When Saturday arrives again, another week is done,
And I've appreciated all the days, yes, every one.
My home, my mom, my loved ones, are as precious as can be;
They made a perfect life, and just for me.

written on my 18th birthday, 04-04-04