MY CAT- From Godfrey at age eight

On Sonsie Farm, Beatrice’s home in Wales, down in her strawberry patch is a small grave, framed in seashells, and beach sand, a simple carved marker,  the resting place of “Simon Fraser” Godfrey’s childhood Siamese  appropriate , Beatrice explained, he was utterly fearless and used to lurk here to ambush my goats.

Did Godfrey ever write about his cat? Yes, Mrs Kromplak found us this gem in her Godfrey archive.

“Write a story about your pet” I suggested.. MY CAT- From Godfrey- Ma says my cat is a bold, wee adventurer, a Siamese she named him Simon Fraser, even though he is a she. Ma fished him out of a flooded drain and gave her to me.

She brings me gifts missing their head. And put rat guts behind my bed. He throws up frequently, she dislikes beets apparently..For I wiped my beet stained face on her fur when just a baby.

My cat is very heavy, her eyes are blue not crossed, in the sunny upstairs window he sleeps, the window out which beets are tossed.

Simon sits on my chest deep in purr. Sister Alice’s nasty stories do not frighten her. Nor is Simon bothered by Uncle Lou Gland, he blew his trombone at him, she bit his hairy hand.

I feed her Haggis, and Oatmeal with cream warm never cold, Simon Fraser an explorer bold, she is Siamese. From Godfrey.

He never really changed his writing style, Beatrice observed..with a sideways smile, and the cat? My goats think she still lurks I’m sure, they avoid my strawberries by a mile.

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