I woke up this morning and as usual I have to feed Katy the cat. She kicks up a fuss and makes end of the world cat noises and I have to fill her cat food dish as fast as humanly possible. So, I sit down for a moment and she starts running about like an out of control robot. She stops still then charges across the room and out the back door and back and forth with gusto and panic. Then she sits next to me and I notice something seems to be sticking out of her rear end. The moment I’ve always feared has arrived. I have to de-worm the cat. In great consternation and feeling probably more afraid than she is I look in the cupboard for the old deworming tablets, are they up to date? yes they’ll do. So I return to the living room. Where is Katy? Katy is in the kitchen sitting next to her food dish – obviously. I call her. “Katy, come and have your medicine”, thinking that I would be in for a right old battle now. Surprisingly she trustingly comes to me. I hold her mouth and with a finger on her lower teeth I prize open her jaw. In goes the tablet and now the rodeo begins as she begins walking backwards over the sofa, onto the floor and back onto the sofa again. I stroke her throat to help the tablet go down and then I see a strange look in her eyes, it’s over. I put out a little bit more food out which she eats and for now she is sitting with her eyes closed back on the sofa and all is calm.
Performance – he and you and what to do when shadows pull wings of death across the graves of ages made of stone and crucifixes and into seas of snowstorms anguish. The performance crew of you and all that’s left of pain that swamps the stage with bloody clothes and masks of river rain
To be alive again and not to live; to be given life without its gift It was strange, strange, strange performance that you gave It was a strange, strange, strange farewell you made