The Stray Cat

Read yesterdays paper;

Oooo baby,
Sweet thang

Oooo baby,
Sweet thang

Limited edition, hand crafted lighters release May 5th on souledidea.com .

This collection will have 10 pieces. All unique, one of one. 3 can be seen below.

Paid subscribers early access May 4th.

Schedule:

Free Substack released to your email:

Monday & Wednesday.

Private Substack released to member’s email:

Tuesday & Friday.

This is the best and easiest way to support the writings and grassroots efforts found here.

04/28/2025

Rock Bottom, I expected to meet you with a big splat!

Bug on windshield, Winston on bedrock but when I got there - instead of liquid spewing and bones cracking - I was met with a powerful metal clanging! A nasty, shaking mess, then a rapid rhythm, loose rock flying around me, confused I look down and at some point during the descent, the free fall to the bottom, my legs had turned into jack hammer shape, hard steel material. This allowed me to force myself further, deeper than bedrock, below rock bottom. At some point I’d have to come out the other side.

I looked up and saw the underneath of the clouds above, that one in particular that I had just tickled the bottom of. The clouds winked, riddled at me that what goes down must go up. I said they had it backwards, they laughed and said they’d be waiting for my arrival with a cup of coffee.

Out of the daze I’m snapped into what we call reality and find myself on the front porch. Company arrives. ‘My’ strange tomcat, and I use the possessive verbiage loose as he’s owned more by his own Freedom and ramblings than anything else. Katz. He’s disfigured and crooked. Tail bent in half. He brought a small mouse to me the first encounter and I wasn’t too sure he hadn’t been a mere figment. But he came again. Carrying a little bird. So I’ve let him catch his scoundrel breath on my porch since then. Never putting either of us through the awkwardness of inviting him indoors. He doesn’t give the impression he’s used to being fully encased in walls. Thus I spare us both.

Ole stray cat, you’re a mangled mess. Black fur blending in with night, is this why I only see you in the morning’s rising light? Ball of hair tangled, limping up my step. Lowered gaze, heavy eyes, you only drop by when you need a rest. Where ya been old friend?

Raggedy looking, scratched face, slow pause, lick a paw, look back at me.

“I been all around this town,