Tag Archives: stories



window cat

It was time to wash the windows and I wondered where to start.

“I have an idea,” meowed a familiar voice.

And I knew the idea would require much of me. So I pretended not to listen and began to gather up some cleaning materials. It really didn’t matter so much where I started. All the windows needed cleaning.

“Just start,” I thought.


“Oh yes,” she purred. Anywhere indeed.

I smiled.

So allow me to present to you my cat. She shows up in my writing from time to time. Her full name is Annie B Whiskers the Mafia Cat. The B stands for Bonino and I usually call her Mrs. Bonino or Annie. She is 7 years old, which I think means that she is 49. The very same age that I am. This is the one year that will be the case. Next year I will be 50 and she will be 56. We are getting older, she and I.

She tells me important things and sometimes I ignore them. I do not like her advice about men for example. She is usually correct but does not pussyfoot around when it comes to the truth. I like the truth but sometimes I like to control the timing a little.

Besides, her experience with males is pretty pathetic so I do not think she is in a position to point her little Bonino paw at me.

Oh yes, we are talking about windows and I have gotten sidetracked by the topic of “men” again. I am on a “man” break at the moment. In recovery so to speak.

So yes…the windows.

Annie was staring at me. “Are you going to start inside or outside?” she asked. “Doesn’t much matter,” I said. “ Does it?”

“Depends,” she said,“on whether you can see what you miss from each side. Sometimes if you start on the outside, you miss the inside bits. And then when you go inside you realize you have missed a couple of outside bits and when you go to fix them… well – anyways its up to you of course.” And she hopped up on the sofa.

“So you are saying maybe I should start on the inside?” I asked.

“Not at all, she said. “Like you said, just start.”
“Great,” I thought to myself. Because I knew I was missing something. Now it mattered to me where to start.

Annie was snoring. With her eyes wide open. Not purring. Snoring. I reached over the sofa where she lay and sprayed a little window cleaner on the glass. As I began to wipe, she began to snore more quietly and her eyes closed and she fell into her afternoon cat coma. I cleaned and polished and checked and cleaned. When I thought it was perfect, I slipped on my shoes and popped out to do the outside next.

This time I used a bit stronger cleaner in a bucket and I really scrubbed and dried and polished. I looked through the window and saw my little friend still curled up sleeping and twitching away.


“Pretty good,” I smiled, satisfied with myself. Now I was really in the mood to do the rest. I went in to admire my work and to begin the next window.


Little smudges.


I looked at my cat with her eyes closed and I knew she was wide awake. I leaned over her and tried to polish the spots that were clearly on the outside.

“I think I need help,” I said aloud to no one in particular.

“Exactly,” came a nod from the couch.

Thanks, Mrs. B.


Catherine MacAdam

Image source: Heritage Cat Clinic


Maure raven


I know we live our own lives and our children are born to do the same. I also agonize for her to be okay when I fear that she is not. Her life is hers to live. And she is very far away.

So try this on for size
In the middle of the
unwashed views
just in front of my
hopes for you
I always hold them just this close
I always hold them in my hands
like the smallest little hummer bird
that cannot ever stay
but always lights a moment
and I look at these
days of flying time
and close my eyes

So fast it always seems to leave
As does she
What matters in the after
places of how I live with what
we’ve said and done
Complete sentences are so overrated
They are not salvation

So here is what I stretch into
instead of falling on my face
I find a place between my self
And watch the play
And watch the dancing words perform
Something that’s not quite a song
But dance they do
I hold my tongue
And whisper out inside my head
Spell it; not straight out
From where I stand
it looks safe and far

I have a child who is very far away
and not safe
I could not keep her safe
I could not keep her dreams alive

by Catherine MacAdam




edging in
a closer look
to wait
and watch for dropping sounds
and lightness forms
a moon of sorts
we carry what we must not fail
and then…
to fall just in between
the dream of now and what was then
a means to wait
by letting go
but never being gone

Now very softly wandering
inside the proper way to show
that this is true in every way
the time to talk is ever close
and reading every layer of this
injecting random thoughts of hope
that carry home
then fade away
and yet…
the standing still can bring
the echoes of this fervent dream
to find that she has also stayed

Catherine MacAdam





It stops me
cold and smooth
along my hands
tracing the road
where I lost
my song

No mask can cover everything

The day she left
me in the bog
Reeds and grass and duckling nests

A childless mother
A motherless child
We followed in circles

And then she left
Her voice gone silent

Go away don’t leave me

And that is what I do
In between the bargaining
That rolls and twists
A gambled prayer

Dear God
I will if you will…

No mask can cover everything
The tears leak through
A wall stands down

We are the wound that left itself


She left no place
for me to be
Go away don’t go

I do my best
to stay

Catherine MacAdam