Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

The Universe Sent My Mom A Cat

The universe sent my Mom a cat. I say the universe, because I think there was more depth and breadth to the reasons for this than I can attribute to the regular Cat Distribution System.

All cat lovers, and maybe even some non cat lovers, have heard about the Cat Distribution System. I am unaware of exactly how the Cat Distribution System works, as I believe cats want the inner workings of the system to be shrouded in mystery, as cats themselves exist within a magical, mysterious world which humans know little to nothing about. But for the sake of this story, I will attempt to relay my basic understanding of the Cat Distribution System. It goes a little something like this: cat shows up wherever you may be, cat convinces you you need another cat even if you already have one or two at home, you, being none the wiser about what witchcraft has just been worked on you, takes said cat home and envelops it into your fold. That, is my bare bones explanation of the CDS.

The CDS is very effective and accomplishes its mission on a daily basis, in fact numerous times a day, all over the world. But, I think the universe sent my Mom a cat. Let me tell you why.

Said cat shows up at Mom’s house while she is sitting outside on her deck enjoying a warm spring day. Said cat proceeds to immediately jump up into my Mom’s lap and give her copious amounts of affection, while also singing the song of said cat’s people. You know the song, the one that immediately calms your anxieties and makes you feel as if everything is right in the world even though your world is burning down around you. At first, my Mom thinks said cat is just a lovely visitor, so she savors the time spent with said cat thinking said cat will return to her home but hopefully come visit on a regular basis. Said cat is on Mom’s deck the very next morning.

Mom is concerned someone is missing said cat because Mom can’t understand how anyone would let said cat just wander, so Mom has me check the pet lost and found pages in our community. I scour them, but no one seems to be missing said cat. Said cat keeps hanging around, so Mom opens her door and invites said cat inside. Said cat enters and acts like said cat has always lived there, merely returning after being gone on a short trip to another galaxy. I tell Mom that said cat has been sent by the universe.

In my mind there is no other explanation. What else would explain this loving little ball of fur showing up right when my Mom needs her the most?

Because, you see, there’s something I haven’t told you. Mom is dying. I hate even typing that word, but it’s reality. I mean, we’re all dying, but Mom is dying in the particularly aggressive Stage 4 cancer sense of the word. When Mom was initially diagnosed, a little over 3 years ago now, Mom had to let her last cat go in the middle of her treatment. Mom was devastated because she missed her furry companion. Mom has had furry companions for years and it was foreign to not have the constant presence of cat hair and chaos which accompanies cats. My son and I encouraged her to get another cat, but Mom was concerned she wouldn’t outlast another furry companion. Even though we assured Mom we would always take care of her furry companion, she said she wouldn’t get another.

Until the universe sent said cat.

Said cat now has a name. Shugg. Short for sugar, even though she can be a bit spicy at times too, because she’s still very kitten like. Shugg has now been spayed and had her immunizations, and thankfully, has finally forgiven me for delivering her to the vet for all that poking and prodding. Shugg has already provided my Mom with hours of cat cuddles, along with laughter due to her kitten antics, and for this, when it is time, I will gladly welcome her into my crazy cat house.

The universe sent my Mom a cat to help navigate one of the most difficult roads she’s ever walked in this journey we call life. Maybe the universe sent this cat to help us all navigate this path.

Domiciles

there was an Old Woman

who lived in a House

ingrained with Bad Memories

just like her Body was

they were Both

Ramshackle

Shabby

Crumbling in Decay

the Old Woman

Buys

Procures

Secures

Knick-Knacks, Bric-A-Brac

Trinkets, Trifles, Tchotchkes

Baubles and Bibelot

to keep the Wolves at bay

but the talisman Close In on her

become her Prison of Pain

with Bats and Squirrel Squatters

residing in her Attic

while The Boogeyman

settles into Her Soul

Almost Famous

Days

Weeks

Months

Run together

Viscous coagulation

Nothing about me

Or my life

Feels special anymore

Even 15 minutes of fame

Was always too much to ask for

His Chair

The old man sat in his chair

Looking out the window watching vultures

Circling in the air

What did he think of since his mind

Was no longer all there

Were they thoughts of his childhood

Prize winning pork chops at the fair

A cold beer in a boat on the lake

In the hot summer air

So many memories to ponder while

The old man sat in his chair

The Good Mother

If I kill myself now

there’s still enough money

to cremate me

plus a little left over

in case anyone wants to

throw a party

Just remember to

sprinkle me in the lake

as I’ve asked

Or don’t

I’ll never know

My son won’t stand

before you and say

“She was a good mom

she always had my back

she was always there for me

she loved me with all her heart”

Because he doesn’t believe those things

Maybe I’ve spent

too much time believing them

Maybe my perception

of my mothering of him

isn’t reality

And if it’s not

what is there left

to live for

Checked Out

Steel tipped missives

is what we trade

Aiming for center

that bullseye of pain

Chalked points

for destroying each other with words

A tournament of fools

Flights broken

Stale beer and cigarette smoke

the only reminders of games once played

Both

checked out

because you never really stepped up to the line

and I was always crossing it

Never To Be

You should have been

cool rain on hot pavement he said

but you were 100 degree days

suffocating me with humidity

like breathing through wet gauze

I needed frozen tundras

and ice covered branches

which you will never be

Safe Zones

6:06 brings the sunrise

but fiery skies

can’t chase away lonely

even though it feels most comfortable

cloaked in the inky blackness of night

Time

makes alone safe

and as 50 approaches like a freight train

it seems easier than starting over

Mulberries

The mulberries 

stain your fingertips and lips blue

The sting of knees skinned by pavement 

forgotten when the sweetness hits your tongue

and it’s summer once again

Playgrounds

How many people’s lives are you allowed to ruin

in your own search for happiness?

Surely it is finite

maybe at some point the universe will stop you

but maybe not

You would think there would be a limit to one’s suffering

and sorrow

but it seems there isn’t

The world is always the kid

standing at the top of the slipper slide

waiting to kick you back down

after you’ve struggled

gripped the sides tight

dug in the toes of your tennis shoes

climbing up that slippery slope

to the peak where the happiness seems to reside

Silly girl

you’ll always be the not thin enough adolescent in polyester shorts

whose thighs rub together

who gets made fun of on the playground

and nobody wants to slow dance with in junior high

Post Navigation

Trent Lewin

Fiction, and other made-up stories

Sparklebumps: The Mother Version

Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.

GREAT AWAKENINGS

One Therapist's Thoughts-Before and After

ZOVISION

It's not the length of life, but the depth.

My musings

This is my mind, it’s not supposed to make sense.

The Phil Factor

Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down

Fighting the Myth

Shining the light of truth on delusion

lesiaschnur.wordpress.com/

Researching, investigating, and writing about the paranormal.

bloggerelstl

You either get it... or you don't.

theonerealheir.wordpress.com/

Inky blackness, a yawning void ~

The Roar Sessions

A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz

Beth Teliho

Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.

kirilson photography

the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa

SAINTSWEST

Just my thoughts for all to behold

Book Snob

FOR DISCERNING READERS

Ann Oblivion Blog

πŸƒ Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. πŸƒ

Chai and Chameli

Spiced with stories, served from the heart

Daniel Aegan

Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer

Annabel Vita

a little bit of this and a little bit of that

Even at Your Darkest

Seeking Beauty Beyond the Scars

insert witticism

The home of Emma O'Brien

shatteredtalon's Blog

The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle

knowingkimberly

I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.