I was working on a post about the persistent, underlying, aggravating, self-absorbing fear that takes over your life when you have cancer, but I’ll save it for another day.
I have quarterly CT/PET scans coming up in a couple of weeks, and I’m in the midst of fending off a little bout of “scanxiety.” It gets easier as time goes on, but it’s still very tiring and very annoying and there’s just so much you can stand of thinking about yourself, you know?
So… let’s talk about something else.
I know. How about cats!
My sweet neighbor sent me an email with the subject “To a great cat-saver.” (Hmm, wonder if she meant “cat-saver” as in cat rescuer or if she meant “cat-saver” as in hoarder? Could be both, I guess.)
Anyway, it’s cute and it made me smile in between the aches and pains I just know are signs of explosive metastases.
My great aunt was a writer and a cat lover (also a Christian Scientist married to a doctor, but that’s another story). She often wrote poems like this one, so it made me smile to think of her, too.
Stray Cat
Oh, what unhappy twist of fate
Has brought you, homeless to my gate?
The gate where once another stood
To beg for shelter, warmth and food.
For from that day I ceased to be
The master of my destiny.
While he, with purr and velvet paw
Became within my house, The Law.
He scratched the furniture and shed
And claimed the middle of my bed.
He ruled in arrogance and pride
And broke my heart the day he died.
So if you really think, oh cat,
I’d willingly relive all that
Because you come, forlorn and thin
Well . . . don’t just stand there . . . come on in!
Franic Witham
DEARMAIZIE 
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