Buster was a black shorthaired cat with golden eyes. We got him as a rescue with Diesel, a silky black and white shorthair. The names didn't work, so Diesel became Dizzy Gillespie. With one jazz musician in the house, there had to be another, and Buster was renamed Satchmo after fellow music maestro Louis Armstrong. Diz was sleepy, silly, soft and sleek. Satch was all quicksilver moods, wanting his belly stroked until all of a sudden, he changed his mind. He would fall asleep with his head tucked tight under my chin, purring fit to burst. A few years later, Satch got a severe ear infection, and lost his balance – the first we knew was when he tumbled all the way down the stairs. He was so wobbly at first that I had to hold his head while he ate, but he mended, and spent the rest of his life looking at the world with his head tip-tilted to one side, as if eternally asking a question he knew wasn't going to be answered.
Writing short fiction, monologues and plays