For the next two weeks, I’m a writer-in-residence at Booranga Writers’ Centre in Wagga Wagga. The drive from Uralla was very long. I mostly followed a flat straight ribbon of a road that ran past glowing fields of canola crops which gave the landscape a strange, surreal Wizard of Oz look. Many creeks and rivers were overflowing from the recent rains and parts of the road were covered with water as well. David Gilbey, president of Wagga Wagga Writers Writers, welcomed me on arrival and I am now comfortably settled in the writer’s flat. Tomorrow, I’m heading off to the ‘Write Around the Murray’ festival in Albury, where I’m giving a memoir writing workshop and appearing on a panel discussion – ‘Mother Lode’ – with Biff Ward, Benjamin Law and Sue Gillett. I’m really looking forward to both of these events and also to attending a host of other sessions at the festival.
The writer’s flat in the old Booranga House is simple and spacious, and the acoustics in the kitchen are wonderful. The best thing, though, is the side verandah, where I enjoy the morning sun while I have a coffee. It’s a good place to stare absently at the bush and the rocks and listen to the birds. I am slowly shaking off the demands of normal life.
There’s a black cat – “Puss” – that lives under the verandah on my side of the house. Although Puss is a very shy cat, she has gained some notoriety over the years, and has featured in a number of poems by visiting writers. Sandra Treble and Kate Dunn, also part of the Booranga team, care for this black cat with a lot of love. Anyway, Puss reminds me of my own black cat – Sooty – who died last September. I wrote a song about Sooty’s death for Lullaby & Lament: a song cycle. Here are the lyrics:
A first lesson in death
Death lies on the road
in the shape of a cat,
in the glare of the headlights
life ends, just like that.
A boy weeps loudly
like never before,
a mother cries softly
as she opens the door.
With her parcel of grief,
her parcel of death,
her thoughts all jumbled,
she is filled with regret.
Yes, it was only a pet,
it was simply a cat,
but the weight in her arms
is heavier than that.
For her boy, lost in tears,
a first lesson in death.
She cradles the cat,
still warm in the night,
calls her boy to her side:
‘Come, say your goodbyes.’
Black Cat, how we loved you,
we teased you and hugged you,
we fed you, we raised you,
and now we farewell you.
Yes, it was only a pet,
it was simply a cat,
but the weight in her arms
is heavier than that.
For her boy, lost in tears,
a first lesson in death.
Death lies on the road
in the shape of a cat,
in the glare of the headlights
life ends, just like that.