A GHOST OF A CAT 🐾🐾🐾🐾

A GHOST OF A CAT

Maggie and Bats' mom, Shy, came for her dinner and then left.
How's that for gratitude?

She was never a mom; she hated her job and chose to abandon her three kittens in our backyard. After all, she was just a cat! A cat who was overwhelmed by the enormity of parenthood to three kittens.
Maggie was left to take care of her little brother, Bat. A sister and now his mother; she protected him and did a good job.
After all, she was just a cat - with a heart!
Good thing Maggie turned out right. Bat certainly, would not have faired well outdoors.
I wish we had done more to keep Shy and tame her: maybe she would have cared more for her babies. She is only a memory now and a screen saver.
Early mornings always remind me my cat Maggie has never forgotten. She will come and sit on my lap, snuggle, and purr, and the minute I open my computer and the screensaver comes on, she perks up and stares. She remembers.


“Mother is a verb as well as a noun. We all, male and female, have the capacity to mother others.
And we can each, always, mother ourselves.”
― Orna Ross

 

Remembrance Day 2020 Poppy Day Lest We Forget.♥️

Remembrance Day 2020

Lest We Forget.♥️

They gave their lives so that we could enjoy our freedom. On the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month, we will remember you."

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvelously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colors of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended …


~ The Dead by Rupert Brooke

AND ON MY WAY HOME THIS EVENING ♥️

Well, sometimes something brilliantly beautiful stops you in your tracks.
On my way home this evening, I came upon this beautiful display of Remembrance Day at the Old Clock in Kemptville.
Even though Remembrance Day was different this year, this blanket of vibrant red poppies, each one handcrafted by someone who didn't forget, will forever remain with me.
Thank you to Leeds Grenville Fibre Extravaganza.
We will remember them.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae

NO WHITE PEAKS  BY PETER KAYNE 

READ BY PETER CUSHING