Zine Writing by Mewsette
Summer Zine 2002 for Writer's Society
Why I (Sometimes) Like Summer
by Mewsette
I can't say I like everything about summer, so I won't. I can't say all humans like it either, cause they don't. It must depend a lot on where you live. I'm an old cat of 16 now, and I just stay indoors, keep cool, and sleep in summer. I don't go on vacations cause my whole life is a vacation. I don't even lie in windows any more when they get too hot and it's 95 outside. I'd rather have a cool breeze. But I can remember when I was much younger, in Texas, and what I liked about summer then.
Summer in Texas was very long and hot. The days always looked yellow-white. We lived in the country, and I used to go outside back then, so sometimes I got very overheated. But I had a good time hunting mice in the yard and in the chickenhouse, where I stayed out of the hot sun a lot. I used to jump and climb clear to the roof of it, too, where I could see very far. It was a metal building. Did you ever hear of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"? That was me. I climbed up very high in the trees in our yard, too. How I loved really high places! I could jump from a tree to the roof of our house and walk around on there. It was fun, watching my Mom flap her arms and call me to come down and drag ladders around. I never needed a ladder! When I was ready, I just went down the rose trellis. I don't know why, but it didn't have many roses on it.
But oh, it was so hot, and the grass would burn brown and get full of stickers that stuck all over my fur. So by that time, Mom started making me stay in during the days, too, as well as at night. I'd go out in the evening then and catch little green snakes in the garden, and bring them to the door for my Mom. Sometimes I brought her a mole, or even a dumb bird that, I swear! fell out of his nest and killed himself going splat on the ground before I ever found him! She had no appreciation for my wonderful summer gifts, either! I caught onions in the garden too, by digging them up. Once I caught a potato that way. And lotsa bugs. Bugs were heaps of fun except one kind, fire ants. You've got to stay far away from those! You've also gotta stay away from bluejay nests in those trees I climbed, cause the jays were big and had nasty tempers and would attack you! I don't know why! I don't!
Summers could be a lot of fun back then, if you were careful, but I don't really miss them, and I sure don't miss the heat! I like to be inside and cool, like I am right now! So, "Why I like Summer"? Air conditioning.
Essay for Fall 2002 Zine (for OCS)
The Autumn of Life
~by Mewsette
Autumn is my favorite time of the year. It's not really my favorite time of life, to be honest, for I do think of life as being in seasons. Like most of us, I was wild and free, happy as a lark, and supple as new green plants in the springtime of my life. They despaired of me ever settling down! And then I was elegant and graceful, a seasoned huntress, and hotly passionate about many things in the summer of my life. Gorgeous, too. They called me the Marilyn Monroe of cats.
Now that I'm 16, I guess I can't deny any longer that I'm getting old and my autumn has come. I don't eat a lot, but then I never did. That's how I kept my slim figure all these years, that and a lot of activity! Well, the activity has kinda gone by, cause I get out of breath too easily now. The gracefulness sorta petered out when I started tripping on steps, and it's not very elegant when you go to leap into a window and fall. Even my vision isn't too hot any more, but I refuse to wear glasses, so my mom leaves lights on for me. But you know how old I'd be if I was a human? 81!! So goodness, I can't complain. I do purrty good for 81, and of course I'm still gorgeous! And modest, too.
I guess the winter of my life will come soon, but you know, I like winter, too. It's part white and and sparkley, part warm and snuggley. And the best thing I know about getting old is that we become more precious to our meowmies every day. When they've loved us so much all these years, we've become the most precious thing in the world to them. At least I know I am to mine. That's a wonderful and peaceful feeling, and just the kind we need in our old age.
Essay for the Fall Zine
Things To Be Thankful For (for Writers Society)
~by Mewsette
I am an old cat, often not well, and sometimes I resist being thankful for all I have, just because it can't go on forever. But nothing does, after all, and that's the wrong attitude. It's not having less things to be thankful for, it's just having some different things. So what I try to do is to be thankful for every new day and all the blessings, large and small, that come with it.
I'm most thankful that I have a human Mom who loves me so much and will do anything for me. So many cats don't have anybody like that. I'm thankful for a comfortable home with all sorts of nooks and crannies that are mine, which is warm in winter and cool in summer. So many cats don't have a home. And I'm thankful for plenty of good food to eat whenever I want it, even though I would be more thankful if that included sardines, sauteed chicken livers, and a few other treats I used to be able to have! But so many cats don't have anybody to feed them anything.
When we get older and have a great store of memories, we should be thankful for all those memories, too. I just thought of that recently, because I really, really resisted getting old! There was no way I, Mewsette, was going to be old! But I did get old, in spite of resisting, and isn't it lucky I did, when you think about it! So I'm thankful that I've lived such a good, long life that I have so many wonderful memories!
Memories are sort of like pretty pictures that you can take out and look at whenever you want to. So I do that; memories of me as a young cat, streaking across the yard and up the trees, memories of hunting and staking out some place I knew there was a mouse, till I got him! Memories of warm closeness with the brother I loved, and my precious furmama I had with me for 16 years, and of the love of my human mom that has grown and grown, memories of watching the woods from my porch on the mountain, feeling the wind, seeing snow, basking in sunshine. All the memories make beautiful dreams now, and remind me every day to be thankful for all of it.
August 02
Bio for Zine
My name is Mewsette, and I'm 16 years old. I'm a slender, gorgeous, longhaired calico with green eyes, and I'm modest, too. I was born in Texas, born into my home, but I've lived half my life in or near the Ozarks. I love the mountains, so I'm an Ozarks cat now.
When I was young, I was a shy kitty and pretty wild, too. We were a family of five cats in those days; my furmama BamBam and me, my two brofurs, and my baby sisfur Phelicity, who joined us when I was 6. I lost my furmama in May; only Phelicity and I are left now. She's no baby any more, I'm sure not shy any more, and I've settled down a lot. That happens when you get old. But I'm opinionated and peppery sometimes. I'm a redhead, after all! You can't see it in my picture, but the whole back of my head is red, like long hair.
We joined CLAW nearly four years ago, and this is where I found my voice. I was always a poet, and I always made speeches, but in CLAW I was thrilled to meet other cats with voices, too! I started writing in earnest then, and discovered I love it; it's another way to talk, talk, talk, like I always did. My furmama used to say she never got another word in edgewise after I was born.
I've so loved being in Poetry in Motion and on the Postcard Team, and I enjoy the Writers Society a lot, where I first tried my paw at fiction writing. I'm in several other guilds, too, and I'm an actress in the Thespians. Though I'm much more a poet and activist than academic, I finally got some more degrees and started teaching in CLAW University, after my little sisfur already had been for awhile. I love CLAW with all my heart, and I'd rather write than breathe, so I am really proud and happy to join the staff at the CLAW Zine!
Column for Winter/Christmas 2002 Zine
Christmas Memories
~by Mewsette
Christmas is coming soon; I see the signs! I look out the glass door when the wood one is opened, hoping to see it all white with snow outside. Any day now my mom will bring the big box in the house and put the pieces together to make a Christmas tree. It's not a real tree; it doesn't even smell right. But you should see what happens to it! Mom hangs kitty ornaments and kitty angels all over it, she has for as long as I can remember. Some of them even look like me. It will have lots of lights that blink and twinkle, and make the little gold and lacy angel wings sparkle. It is so purrty!
This will be my 17th Christmas! So I have lots of Christmas memories of many different kinds. There was my first, when I was only 8 months old and picked Christmas Eve to go into heat! My mom was not pleased. I was spayed by New Years Day. That holiday season was not a lot of fun. But better ones were coming.
There was the Christmas I was 5, and all my mom's human family, inlaws and grandchildrens were there in my little house! I'd never heard so much noise! I spent the whole time in the deepest hidey-hole I could find! I was afraid the floor would break! But better ones were coming.
There was last Christmas, when we took particular care with our tree, using all kitty angels, and three new ornaments painted especially to look like each of us girls' faces. We were sad, knowing it would be my furmama's last one, but we tried to make it special for her, and it was special.
And there were my best Christmases of all, on the quiet mountain we used to live on, with just my mom and me, my furmama BamBam. and my sisfur Phelicity. Outside it would be very cold and the drifted snow would be all sparkley clean and white. We would have a fire in the big woodstove, and I would be lying next to my furmama on our purr pad behind it, keeping warm and cozy. Phelicity would be stretched out with her silly little head right under it.
I would see that same "tree" from there and go to sniff at it. It would have new little stuff under it wrapped in tissue paper that smelled like catnip. And there would be music playing real soft in the house, but outside there would be no sounds at all. Just all peaceful. Mom would be cooking something good, like chicken and dumplings, and she'd give us girls some little pieces. Then we'd all snuggle up on the couch and look at the lights on the tree. That's the most wonderful Christmas I remember.
There won't be any more like that, but that's part of what makes memories beautiful and special. I hope we're going to make some lovely new ones this year. I hope you do, too! Merry Christmas!
Down from the Attic
First column: Christmas Old and New
~by Mewsette
You know how some houses have attics? If it's an old house, there's usually a lot of fascinating old stuff up there. There might even be some new stuff that is only brought out once a year, at Christmas. "Old" is one of those words that has two opposites, "new" and "young". It needs two, in case they're not always the same thing.
We have two different Nativity scenes, that I've watched being set up on tables at Christmas time for all my 16 years. Usually only one or the other is put out. I don't know why.
One is very old and has a lot of larger figures, painted in soft, rich colors. The whole set is arranged in a wooden stable about two feet long. An angel is hung on top and a light is put inside. It takes a while to lok at all the antique-looking figures. All of it was made many years ago by my human mom and dad (who I never knew), so it's way older than me.
The other Nativity is not young, but is newer, and much smaller. There are only six figures, the Holy Family and the three kings. No shepherds, no little sheep and donkeys, no angel. They are made of clear glass, and are arranged on a mirror base, so this set is quite shiny and modern-looking. You admire how pretty it is, and don't notice that there aren't many figures.
It seems to me that while I've been watching this, Christmas became more new and less old, more glittery and less simple, more frantic and less peaceful. Maybe it will become smaller, like the pieces on a mirror, instead of larger, like the stable. I don't want to think that. I'd like to see Christmas stay "old", but maybe that's just because I'm an old cat.
Which would you like to see Christmas be, more old, or more new? Either one is pretty and nice, judging by the Nativity scenes. So whichever way you would like Christmas to be, make it that way for yourself. We can do that. That's one of the wonderful things about Christmas.
I do hope my mom brings the whole stable this year, down from the attic.
Story for WS for Winter Zine
My Snowy Little Adventure
~by Mewsette
I love Christmas and I love snow, so I really love when they come together! Lots of kitties never see snow. When we do, we see it lovely white and sparkley bright outside, from safe in our warm window. That's how I do, anyway. Except once.
My adventure only lasted a few minutes; that's why I call it little. But now, I ask you, how long does an adventure have to be to qualify? It seemed big at the time!
I never minded cold weather (like I do hot weather!). When we lived on the mountain, I used to holler to go out on my screened porch, even in December, so Mom would let me go out and look at the sparkly snow for a few minutes. (I'm purrty good at getting what I want!)
Well, one cold night right before Christmas, my mom had brought firewood through the screen door earlier and forgot to latch it. I was sitting out there listening to the wind (it tells me secrets!) when suddenly a big gust blew the screen door open, and it stuck. Oh, boy! All excited, I ran down the steps to see the snow closer, but whoops! Was it cold on my paws! Then I sunk in it up to my tummy, even though it was stiff on top. And it was so deep I still couldn't feel the ground under my feet! And my tummy was freezing, eeek! So I floundered around and got myself under the porch where there wasn't much snow, and wondered what to do next. I was not a happy kitty!
Then I heard my mom open the door above me and she saw that I was gone. Goodness, what noise! She came tearing down the steps and across the yard in her socks, frantically calling me. Well, I always did answer to my name being called, even when I was busy, and I sure wasn't busy then. So I howled a little from under the porch, cause I was not going out there and drown in the snow! Okay, maybe I howled a lot. Mom came running and scooped me out and held me so tight, she about suffocated me! We went back in the house, and she latched that screen door, too, let me tell you!
There was sure lotsa crying going on, and not by me! I was fine. My fur wasn't half as wet as Mom's socks. But you see, I'd been lost for two weeks on that mountain when we first moved there. I got over it real soon, but my mom didn't.
And I always craved adventure and wanted to do wild things, at least when I was younger. So I loved that mountain. To me, it was paradise. I loved the snow in winter, too. Finding out how cold and deep it was didn't change my mind at all. As long as I didn't try to go swimming in it!
(Note: This didn't get in the Zine on the WS page)