Poems About the Death of Merlin in Animal Anthology, and Dad’s Handsomest Student (IMO)

By lornawoodauthor on September 24, 2026

Merlin, my work buddy during the pandemic, in her salad days. 23 March 2020. Taken by me.

Shortly after we moved to our Chicago apartment, Merlin, my cat, began throwing up all over it. In the course of the next few months, she died of cancer. We were able to alleviate her symptoms and suffering to some extent, and each time she performed her morning greeting ritual, I felt she wanted another day of life. But when she began obviously looking for a place to die, I wrapped her up close to me in my parka and took her on the short walk to the vet’s. She still had enough energy to stir with interest when we met some pigeons as we passed through a small park, but it was time. She was a good kitty.

I wrote two poems about her passing. “Merlin and the Big C,” with a pun on “sea,” was about our relationship during her illness, as we approached her death together, and the other, “Ghost Cat,” involved some uncanny sensations of her presence that I continued to experience for a few days after her passing. I am grateful to Editor Red Focks for including these in The Alien Buddha Talks to Animals, available at Amazon through the link. I have placed the book on the chair to my vanity in my bathroom. Merlin spent most of her last days on this throne.

The Alien Buddha Talks to Animals, ed. Red Focks, on the vanity chair in my bathroom. 21 September, 2026. Taken by me.

That was almost a year ago, and though it was sad, we had many good years together. Since we were traveling several times during the holidays, spring, and summer after she was gone, I delayed getting another cat until my birthday. Just before that date, my daughter called. One of the kittens she fostered and found a home for five years ago was not doing well with some of her family members and needed a quieter home. Although I was planning to get a cat in Chicago, I knew my daughter felt responsible for this one, and besides, getting her was a great excuse for visiting my amazing grandson.

Though I generally feel people who “rehome” animals are irresponsible, this family have been touching in their anxiety for her, and they are happy and relieved to see pictures of her settled and happy in our apartment. Glad I could help. Without further ado, I present Devin, which means “poet,” among other things, in Irish Gaelic, and “divine” in Old French.

Devin in a box. 18 September 2026. Taken by me.

Apropos of These Handsome Portraits . . .

I never heard much about Arsenio Girón (1932-2022) growing up, and he doesn’t seem to have kept in touch much after graduation, but Dad did keep a violin and piano sonata Girón wrote for his Oberlin girlfriend, Patricia Ann Day, who became his wife; and he kept the incredibly handsome professional portrait you can see at the link above that goes to Girón’s obituary. He looks very kind in both the photos I have seen, which is in keeping with his lifelong devotion to his wife, family, and the academic institution where he taught composition and theory (the University of Western Ontario).

Girón must have been incredibly busy because he was very prolific, writing for many different instruments and ensembles. I have begun to think of him as a sort of modern-day Telemann. Although he seems to me to have been, like Maslanka and Kam, resistant to the traditional teleological thrust of western art music, he adopts a different method of resistance, one you can see already in the violin and piano sonata, which appears to have been written while he was at Oberlin. He seems to dwell on permutations of a few cells which gradually come to interrelate to one another without ever really coalescing or losing their cellular distinctiveness. This approach anticipates minimalism. There are moments of direction, but there are also many pauses and a sense of fragmentation, as can be heard in Five Diversions for Xylophone. Many people might find this intensely intellectual music boring, compared to the drama of Becker or early Maslanka. But I believe it has its own value. It creates an intriguing window into what seems to have been an intensely analytical mind.

I will be posting again soon, as I have a time-sensitive announcement. In the meantime, I encourage you to read The Alien Buddha Talks to Animals, adopt a mature pet, and divert yourself with Girón’s compositions.