Fun story. Light, tender and whimsical, too. I knew a cat lady once. Her name was Taormina, a librarian who at one point shared her home with 20+ furry friends somewhere in Queens, NY. She was an amazing person.
Such sublime writing, Kate...I adored the suitcase metaphor, the deconstruction of the three words, the incredible tenderness which you speak both about your cats and about yourself. This piece gained you a new fan, and I'm really excited to read more of your work. Bravo!!!
Meow, back! I love this post, Kate McGunagle (https://substack.com/@bardette). The first crazy cat lady I was ever aware of was a man. His name was Harrison Withers. He lived in a two room apartment with 26 cats. He was a character in Harriet the Spy, my favorite book of all time. He fed his cats kidneys. They had fabulous names and they lived in one of the rooms and he lived in the other, where he made fanciful bird cages to earn his living. Harriet used to spy on him through a skylight and needed to know whether he ate kidneys, too. It turned out that he tended toward small containers of plain yogurt for sustenance. I wish I could post a picture of him, a splendid illustration by the author, Louise Fitzhugh, a very queer woman, indeed. Thanks for this treat!
KATE! I just read the post you published today. I went to comment, but I can't because I'm not a paid subscriber, but I want you to know that I read it with my jaw hanging open because I'm so in the same place in my life. So many changes, and so much work to get where I am. And this time, IT IS DIFFERENT. Clarity is a blessing and a gift. I'm sending you so many good wishes for your new home. I hope it's everything you want it to be. Change is good. Freedom is amazing.
“The crazy cat lady is filled with love. It pours out of her fingers. She has more of it to give than anyone I know. It may just be that society doesn’t know what to do with that kind of love, its tenor and its shine. So she pours it into furred bodies instead, the kind that make apostrophes around your ankles, that see through the night and cry out with the dawn.” THIS THIS THIS. How wonderful and true, this much-deserved reframe of the “crazy cat lady” made my day.
I love it when queer folks deconstruct and repurpose cultural labels, especially with the cleverness, humor and pride with which Kate McGunagle has trounced and reclaimed "crazy cat lady." Well done! 😻
I like the idea of doing more collaborations. Also, the music writers on Substack meet every two weeks via Google Meet. It would be cool to establish something like that for this group to help develop some collabs. Just a thought!
Thank you, Mr. Ford for the add! I appreciate your amazing resource—majes this ex-public librarian proud here! ♥️
And shameless plug, if I may, Episode 4 of The MorningPoems Podcast is out…like out—of a closet even:
https://open.substack.com/pub/tessmccarthy/p/morningpoems-s1-e4-the-passage-of
🏳️🌈♥️🏳️🌈
Fun story. Light, tender and whimsical, too. I knew a cat lady once. Her name was Taormina, a librarian who at one point shared her home with 20+ furry friends somewhere in Queens, NY. She was an amazing person.
Such sublime writing, Kate...I adored the suitcase metaphor, the deconstruction of the three words, the incredible tenderness which you speak both about your cats and about yourself. This piece gained you a new fan, and I'm really excited to read more of your work. Bravo!!!
Aren't we all crazy cat ladies in the end? Love it!
Meow, back! I love this post, Kate McGunagle (https://substack.com/@bardette). The first crazy cat lady I was ever aware of was a man. His name was Harrison Withers. He lived in a two room apartment with 26 cats. He was a character in Harriet the Spy, my favorite book of all time. He fed his cats kidneys. They had fabulous names and they lived in one of the rooms and he lived in the other, where he made fanciful bird cages to earn his living. Harriet used to spy on him through a skylight and needed to know whether he ate kidneys, too. It turned out that he tended toward small containers of plain yogurt for sustenance. I wish I could post a picture of him, a splendid illustration by the author, Louise Fitzhugh, a very queer woman, indeed. Thanks for this treat!
KATE! I just read the post you published today. I went to comment, but I can't because I'm not a paid subscriber, but I want you to know that I read it with my jaw hanging open because I'm so in the same place in my life. So many changes, and so much work to get where I am. And this time, IT IS DIFFERENT. Clarity is a blessing and a gift. I'm sending you so many good wishes for your new home. I hope it's everything you want it to be. Change is good. Freedom is amazing.
“The crazy cat lady is filled with love. It pours out of her fingers. She has more of it to give than anyone I know. It may just be that society doesn’t know what to do with that kind of love, its tenor and its shine. So she pours it into furred bodies instead, the kind that make apostrophes around your ankles, that see through the night and cry out with the dawn.” THIS THIS THIS. How wonderful and true, this much-deserved reframe of the “crazy cat lady” made my day.
I love it when queer folks deconstruct and repurpose cultural labels, especially with the cleverness, humor and pride with which Kate McGunagle has trounced and reclaimed "crazy cat lady." Well done! 😻
I like the idea of doing more collaborations. Also, the music writers on Substack meet every two weeks via Google Meet. It would be cool to establish something like that for this group to help develop some collabs. Just a thought!
I feel seen!