Because there has to be a cat page, doesn’t there?
| When | My Mews | Major Works |
| 1954-1972 Cushing Road, Camden NJ |
 Spooky Spook–my mother’s cat. She got her name from her habit of hiding behind furniture and pouncing on passing feet. Her favorite toy was a piece of paper folded accordion-style and tied in the middle with a string–she would determinedly chase, catch and shred them.  Scamper Scamper–my older sister’s cat. Small, skittish, and conflict-adverse, she earned her name darting through the back alleys and shadowed corners of our house. She stayed behind when Sue moved to San Diego in 1975, eventually becoming the matriarch of my mother’s house. |
A letter to the editor, published in the Camden Courier-Post.
Short stories published in Impressions, the student newspaper at St. Joe’s High. |
| 1973 Armstrong Hall, Michigan State University |
 Amelia (1973-?) Amelia–adopted from someone in the MSU psych department near the end of my freshman year. My R.A. looked the other way until Amy was spotted climbing the window screens of my room. Amelia went home to New Jersey to live, and adopted my younger sister and my father as her buddies. |
Stories for ENG 228A, the only creative writing class I’ve ever taken. |
| 1974-1976 Delta Arms Apts., East Lansing MI |
No pets allowed. | The Open Face of Heaven (unpublished novel) |
| Summer of 1976 Northwind Apts., East Lansing MI |
 Charlie (1976-1978) Charlie–Karla and I adopted him as an adult cat from the Ingham County Humane Society. He was an adrenalin junkie and aerialist–he loved to be tossed on a blanket, or dropped off the Briarwood balcony onto the living room couch. |
Resumes and cover letters. |
| Fall of 1976 Susan Street, Sturgis MI |
Charlie | Lesson plans for my science and math students at Heritage Middle School. |
| Winter of 1977 South Main Street, Goshen IN |
Charlie | More lesson plans. |
| 1977-1978 Briarwood Apartments, Goshen IN |
Charlie slipped out of the house during a snowstorm one day, and we never saw him again. We told ourselves he’d gone over to the farm next door, found a barn full of girl-cats, and decided to stay. | Still more lesson plans.”Memory” (Asimov’s, 9/83)
“The Inevitable Conclusion” (Amazing Stories, 8/79 – first sale) “Addressee Unknown” (Amazing Stories, 3/81) |
| 1978-1986 Sunset Boulevard, Goshen IN |
Amanda–the cat, not the daughter. We adopted her as an older kitten from the Elkhart County Humane Society. I remember that she loved to sit in the pool of afternoon sunlight on my yellow office carpet. Alas, she didn’t take well to Lazi’s (see Yes, Dogs, Too) arrival in the household, and started peeing in that sunny spot on my yellow office carpet by way of protest. Nothing we did could persuade her to adapt, and in the end we had to return her to the shelter. But I thought of her on every sunny day for years afterward. | Matthew
Many short stories. Novels Emprise, Enigma, Empery |
| 1986-1995 Briarcliffe Apartments, Lansing MI |
 Arro (1988-1994) Arro – Gwen’s calico tripod, and the haughty grande dame of her household for more than 27 years. They moved in with me in June, 1988, and we finally said good-bye to her in May, 1994. We have many Arro stories, because she was a cat of great character, with both endearing and annoying quirks.  Dr. “Levi” Gray (1988-2003) Shadow – Gwen adopted Shadow as a young adult while she was living in Louisville, and he came to Michigan with her in 1986. He was leonine in face and bearing, and entered a room as though he owned it.  Captain Black (1990-2001) Captain Black – came to us from the wild, appearing on our doorstep one afternoon in 1990. We were heading out to Ann Arbor, and he was fleeing several children who’d put a plastic rope leash on him. We opened the door, and he leaped from the top of the charcoal grille into Gwen’s arms. He was lean and beautiful, but he remained a rover–always had to have a door into summer. |
Moss
Countless GEnie and CompuServe posts, collectively a couple of novels’ worth Alternities Exile Vectors (begun 1992) |
| 1995-2024 Cherry Hill Drive Meridian Twp. MI |
Captain loved the new neighborhood, with voles and the occasional rabbit in our fenced and usually overgrown back yard. But a mysterious neurological affliction took him from us in July, 2001.
 Phoenix (2001-2010) Phoenix – a shelter rescue, adopted as a four-year-old in August, 2001. We suspect her previous owner punished her for asking for attention; it took a while before she started to allow more than a tummy or cheek scritch every so often. But she became the most aggressively social of our cats – the most likely to talk to us, and to invite herself onto laps and beds. Much of the transformation happened when Matt came home from college for that Yule–because for whatever reason, Phoenix just loved him.  Gryffin (2001-2012) Gryffin – a medical rescue, adopted in August, 2001. Gwen had a dream about a yellow cat, and the next day spotted Gryffin at a local pet shop. But because of a major heart murmur, he was likely to be discarded. We decided to roll the dice on his health (and his aggressive biting), and our faith was rewarded. Gavin became his primary human–he could pick him up and not pay in blood before anyone else–but the neighborhood was Gryffin’s world. He made friends next door, across the street, and down at the corner. We often didn’t see him for days at a time, even in winter. Gryffin fell ill in 2012 and left us that November.  Miss Bob (2003-2022) Miss Bob – one of two guest cats who moved in along with a friend in the fall of 2003. Bob (yes, she’s a girl, named after the planet) looked to Gryffin as her role model, but she couldn’t quite get it right. She was much more of a homebody, much more nervous, and kind of a klutz. Like Gryffin, she loved our roof. As our huntress, she brought us presents–dead birds and field mice, live birds and field mice. She became a permanent member of the household when our friend went home to Pennsylvania. In her last years, she became increasingly irascible, and I became the only human she tolerated.  Celeste (2011-2025) Celeste – adopted April 2011 from the Ingham County Animal Shelter. Celeste was the smallest cat in the shelter at the time, hiding in the back of a cat cubby. In her youth, she was queen of the basement during the day, joining us upstairs in the evenings. Never the most social of cats, she withdrew more and more as she aged, fading quietly out of our lives.  Othello (2011-2024) Othello – adopted along with Celeste in April 2011 from Ingham County Animal Shelter. They were having a two-for-one sale on adoption fees. ☺ Othello was a Bombay, or ‘parlor panther”–sleek, long-limbed, and social. Unlike with most cats, his active tail meant he was happy. It was a nightly ritual for Othello to come curl up under Gwen’s chin and demand her full attention for a few minutes. He was the last indoor/outdoor cat to live here, our last ambassador to the neighborhood. And he was the first cat to die in any of my homes–I found him one morning curled on the floor behind a bedroom door, taken by the kidney disease we were trying to treat. I miss him still. |
Gavin
My web site and its mostly now-dark stepchildren (Yorkship, Heritage, St. Joe’s, and Spartan Stars) Star Wars: Before the Storm Star Wars: Shield of Lies Star Wars: Tyrant’s Test Vectors (completed 2001) Fragments of Fragments The Black Book Band’s FIRST CONTACT Three successful Social Security Disability applications for family Uncountable hours of chatting via Yahoo Messenger, ICQ, Trillian, WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger, Discord, and other services which Shall Not Be Named 1000+ Postcrossing postcards Too few LiveJournal posts–never really clicked with that platform Too many Facebook posts and comments, followed by hardly any Facebook posts and comments after #35 was elected and the algorithms took over Oh, yes, somewhere in here was a pandemic which disrupted everything, killed over a million Americans, and hastened the rise of know-nothing politics I truly hate this alternity |
| 2024-present
Okemos: The Next Generation |
Don’t You Need Somebody to Love? After Miss Bob and Celeste passed in successive years, Gwen and I looked at our lives and agreed: Here it ends. I didn’t want to take on responsibility for any more creatures, especially ones who stood a good chance of outliving me.
But Moss, 40+ years younger, saw it differently. Many conversations ensued. Certain representations were made, compromises negotiated, an agreement forged. Gwen and I didn’t adopt, but Moss did: Forte, Spock, and Alistair, three sweet boys rescued from Capital Area Humane Society in Lansing. Photos to come. |
Time will tell |
