I should have taken him in right then and there. I should have accepted the inevitability of the cat distribution system. But I told myself it wasn’t the day yet. I’d fallen behind on updating my car registration, making me even more fretful of a busybody cop pulling me over out of boredom, so driving around to vets made me anxious. On top of that more acute concern,depression had been gnawing at my bones for weeks. Clients have been late with meager payments, stress from you name it piled up, and, I told myself, the little black cat seemed ok. He was clean, well-fed, and seemed a little wary. I did not have the ability to take on a foster yet.

I promised him that I’d get my paperwork in order and if he came back once I did, I’d get him a checkup.

I’m sure he didn’t understand a word. But Freddie kept coming back. I didn’t intend to name him. It just seemed to be the name for him, an homage to fellow cat-aficionado and personal inspiration Freddie Mercury. (Miss you, Freddie.) The same thing happened with my dear departed Margarita years ago, the kind of moment when a cat’s name is clear as a cloud in the sky.

Freddie’s visits got more frequent, and I couldn’t tell whether he was looking for food or just felt safe enough to stay in the yard. He was wary at first, not a fan of being picked up, but he stayed longer and became friendlier with each interaction. After a couple days of this, as I got my paperwork up to date, Freddie made the call. Splash saw him out back, I opened the door, and it didn’t even close behind me before the little mister’s tail flagged up and he was bounding up the stairs to purr, flop, roll, mouth, and press his little nose against my hand.

That was Mother’s Day morning.

I’ll spare you the detailed account of getting the little guy seen and checked out. Great teeth, a little less than a year old, no FIV, no feline leukemia, neutered but not chipped or tipped. I have no idea where he came from. He must have been born late last summer, survived the winter, but lost his mom early. He’s constantly pulling my fingertips to his mouth while he purrs and kneads, trying to figure out how to nurse on something that isn’t a nipple. He’s eating, rolling, rumbling, and finding his favorite position to sleep in on my lap, running in front of me and hissing every time I stand up to leave the room.

He knew it before I did.

Freddie’s home.

[if you want to help keep Freddie flush with Cheru and cat toys, upgrade to the premium newsletter or kick in a few via ko-fi]

Scribblings

• When the Earth Was Green is out in paperback! If you haven’t read it yet, or need a gift to give an outdoorsy friend, you can get it from your favorite bookshop now. And if you’ve already picked it up and read my ode to ancient plants, thank you so much for doing so.

• Relatives of today’s great white and mako sharks started to get big millions of years earlier than previously thought, perhaps because they lived along coasts where giant marine reptiles were rare. I’ll tell you all about it in my latest article for premium subscribers.

• Episode 3 of Walking With Dinosaurs, an Early Cretaceous story of Gastonia and Utahraptor… isn’t great. I really wish paleontologists would think twice before making pack-hunting and belly-eviscerating claims about dromaeosaurs. My quibbles here for premium subscribers.

• Last week’s article, about a big fossil croc found in the same fossil beds as “Lucy,” is up free on my website.

Ear Perks

• If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know Alligator is one of my all-time favorite horror films. It’s so much more than a JAWS ripoff, and it’s the killer crocodylian movie that says ACAB and let’s eat the 1%. You can watch the whole thing free thanks to SHOUT!

• Payment processors are making life hell for sex workers, intentionally so given how many sex workers are multiply-marginalized people. It’s all part of a long-running conservative con job to impose their morality on everyone. If this is news to you, this feature from The Flytrap will get you up to speed.

• Fresh off finishing the oral history Queercore, I jumped right into It Came From the Closet and loved it. I was thrilled to find some movies I’d never heard of before, like Society and As Boas Manerias as well as find new appreciation for the sexuality of movies like JAWS. And honestly? It was nice to read some takes on Sleepaway Camp that weren’t just kneejerk, surface level “doing it for the post” takes. If you love horror, level up your media literacy and check out the anthology.

• I’ve never seen The Devils before, but I think I need to now. This piece from Fangoria is a fascinating look at what gets cut from movies and how explicit scenes thrown into studio vaults eventually re-emerge.