Droolie at Fifteen

Today, Droolie turns 15 years old, at least by his veterinarian's calculations. He showed up at the Greensboro house in late 2012, and at first, I thought he might be the same cat that had mysteriouly appeared (and then disappeared, equally mysteriously) at least a year or two earlier, whom I called Scrapple (see "Scrapple II?" December 8, 2012). For all I know, he may actually be that cat, but I decided to name him "Droolie" when it became clear that he drools when he's happy. Since he's been that way since day one and he's usually happy, well, it was the perfect name.

 

And here he is, all these years later, generally doing very well, although he keeps getting these recurring sinus bugs, and I have to give him medicine that he really does not like (well, it's actually people medicine, and I can attest that it tastes awful).

 

Some might remember that, in his younger days, Droolie made a vocation of redecorating my place, and so, he became the proud proprietor of Designs by Droolie™. He still indulges in some creative interior design and decorating now and again, although he mostly spends his days in semi-retirement, usually seeking and chasing treats keep himself active.

He and I both hope he'll remain in good health for the foreseeable future. He's looking forward to his 16th birthday so that he can finally get his driver's license.

treats dad need treats now TREATS!

Moose Is Home, Terror at Collinwood, and Other Fun Horrors

Mr. Moose was able to come home yesterday, though he still requires blood sugar monitoring and a battery of medications. He's eating normally and seems much more comfortable now. We're hoping he's going to do well for the duration, as we're feeling quite done with the trauma of having to take him to veterinarians both in and out of town. It's bad enough that it's so hard on him, but the financial burden is astronomical. He is family, though, and we're doing what we've gotta do under these circumstances.

 

It's a busy day all around for me. A little earlier, friend Bob Issel and I participated in a chat with Danielle Gelehrter (a.k.a. Penny Dreadful) for her Terror at Collinwood podcast. This one was about the release of Our Shadowed Past III, the massive;Dark Shadows book that Bob and I recently produced (see "Our Shadowed Past III Is in the House," November 4, 2025). It was a great conversation that ran about an hour, and it should appear online within a week. If you're at all a fan of Dark Shadows, this podcast is for you. Of course, I'll post an alert when the episode is live.

I've got another podcast at 7:00 p.m. EST this evening, this one with the Lovecraft eZine group. It's to be a discussion of Roman Polanski's classic film, The Ninth Gate. It's a favorite horror flick of mine, and Brugger and I watched it for the umpteenth time just before Halloween. I believe the movie discussion is for eZine editor Mike Davis's Patreons only, and if you're not currently subscribing to his podcasts, you really otter.

This afternoon, I'm hard at work on Freezer Burns, the newest collaboration between Elizabeth Massie and me. We can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and we're hoping to have it finished up in the very near future.

Mister Moose

Y'all, please keep Mr. Moose in your thoughts. He's suffering from pancreatitis and is under a specialist's care in a facility out of town. Depending on the severity of the case, he may be able to recover, but it's not a sure thing. Seven years ago, Kim took him in after he was found starving and barely clinging to life when he was a tiny kitten. Ever since then, he's been living the dream with us, and we'd so hate to lose him. You'd never find a sweeter kitty.

The Last Farewell to My Little Sweetheart

I buried Frazier in the backyard this afternoon, which brought on a whole new rush of tears and memories.  I'd had to wait until the ground thawed a bit before I could dig, so I had laid him in the garage, where it stayed pretty cold. I remember burying my first dog, Patty, back in 1981, very near where Frazier's body now lies. That was the first time I'd ever had to bury a pet, and it was the hardest thing I'd ever done. It was almost as hard with Frazier, though I've had to bury all our other cats who have passed away over quite a few years. Maestro, Abbott, Charcoal, Dusty, and Chester all still lie behind the old house in Greensboro.

The photo above is the last one I took of Frazier while he was still alive. Moose seemed to know that something was amiss, and he stationed himself nearby for most of the night.

I can't say I have any belief in a spirit afterworld, but in my mind's eye, I see all of our beloved pets playing together happily. If there is any such thing, whenever the time comes, I want more than anything to be reunited with them, and all my loved ones.

Moose and Frazier watching TV together. They liked that a lot.

One of my favorite Frazier memories — Halloween 2014

R.I.P. Frazier Rainey — 2007–2025

Frazier passed away last night at the age of 18—almost 19. He'd become pretty frail over the past several months, but he remained active, otherwise healthy, and always hungry. A couple of days ago, he took a rapid downturn, and we knew the end could not be long coming.

Back in 2007, he showed up on our doorstep (as have most of our cats who became our cats) and wouldn't go away. The little girl next door started calling him Frazier, and the name stuck. He fit right in with Dusty and Chester, our other two fuzzies, and it wasn't long before he and Chester became inseparable best friends.

Frazier and I developed a strong bond immediately, and it reached the point where I could scarcely move from one room to another without tripping over him. He helped me write (I constantly had to edit cat words out of my manuscripts), watched TV with me, and slept on top of me. In late 2012, Droolie arrived on the scene, and—unlike with Chester—the two of them didn't do much bonding. However, every morning, they'd mock-wrestle in the kitchen as I prepared their breakfasts, while Chester circled like a referee in a wrestling ring.

Dusty passed away in 2013 and Chester in 2015, leaving me with Frazier and Droolie, who got along, but only just. In 2021, Ms. B. moved into the house with her three boys—Moose, Ralph, and Rufus—and this created a new, very tumultuous dynamic. No one trusted anyone, cat fights became more commonplace, and our respective kitties strengthened their bonds with their original people. Eventually, a somewhat uneasy peace broke out. After poor little Ralph passed away from congestive heart failure in 2023, the cat world settled into a still-uneasy but generally less agitated state.

Through it all, Frazier remained essentially unfazed. The most mellow of the bunch, he continued his sweet, friendly ways, and even as an older cat, he became more and more playful. Oftentimes, usually at night, I'd hear this loud, long wailing noise ringing out of the darkness, which at first alarmed me. Then I found out that Frazier had simply found a cat toy and was announcing to the world, "I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I GOT IT!" Whenever we had visitors—whether friends, a plumber, an HVAC service guy, a painter, an electrician, or what have you—all the other cats ran and hid, but Frazier always trotted out to say, "HI! I'M FRAZIER!"

When it was clear that Frazier's health was declining, I made a special point to spend as much time with him as possible; it felt like every day we had together was a gift. I truly believe he knew how much both Ms. B. and I loved him. On his last day, he made a strenuous effort to get up on the bed beside me, and that is where he spent his final hours.

Since my elementary school days, I have lived with and lost many animals, and I have loved every one of them dearly; Frazier, though, was a particularly special little guy, and I will miss him with all my heart for the rest of my days.

A Visit From the Tooth Frazier

Had to have a back tooth yanked out due to root decaying beneath a crown. Not as bad as all that, but Frazier settled in to help me feel better. Either that, or he was just cold.

Later, Frazier settled into bed with me because he takes his role as comfort cat seriously, which I very much appreciate. But then Droolie decided to find comfort by smushing Frazier, and the weight became unbearable. Adorable, but unbearable. Fat help, Droolie.

Holy Turkey Buzzards, Catman!

I went outside to write on the porch to avoid the editorial efforts of certain young cats. You can't really see much in the photos, but the trees in the backyard are filling up with turkey buzzards. And they keep swooping down disturbingly close to me. I wonder if the buzzards know something I don't...

L: The writer seeking to escape R: the editor in question.

The Weird Cat Is in the House!

Droolie is pleased to announce that our contributor copies of The Weird Cat are in the house! Edited by Katherine Kerestman and S.T. Joshi, it features my story, “Nimbus,” along with a host of contemporary authors as well as masters from the past. The official release date is October 18 from WordCrafts Press. The hardback and ebook editions are now available for pre-order from Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com; trade paperback coming soon.

Complete list of authors in The Weird Cat:
• Ambrose Bierce • Algernon Blackwood • William Blake • Adam Bolivar • Ramsey Campbell • Lewis Carroll • Frank Coffman • Sir Arthur Conan Doyle • Lord Dunsany • Jason C. Eckhardt • Alan Dean Foster • Brandon R. Grafius • Lafcadio Hearn • Katherine Kerestman • Caitlin R. Kiernan • Rudyard Kipling • Tony LaMalfa • Lori R. Lopez • H.P. Lovecraft • E. Nesbit • Elliott O'Donnell • Manuel Perez-Campos • Michael Potts • Stephen Mark Rainey • Rainer Maria Rilke • Sax Rohmer • Hank Schwaeble • Darrell Schweitzer • Robert W. Service • M.P. Shiel • Christina Sng • Anna Taborska • Mary Turzillo • M.F. Webb • W.B. Yeats • Cover art by Mike Parks 

R.I.P. Ralph Brugger

Several months ago, Kimberly’s kitty, Ralph, was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and he has been on a slow decline ever since. Kim had him on medication, which helped for a while, but these last few weeks, he’s gone downhill so severely that we had to make the difficult decision to end his suffering this morning. We took him to the vet here in Martinsville, where they were very compassionate and understanding. He’s gone now.

 

Ralph was one of a pair of brothers that Kim adopted about eight years ago (his brother is Rufus, who is doing well). Ralph was one precocious kitten, outgoing and gregarious. As he got older, he became far more mellow and sometimes reclusive. But, like all our cats, he was loved and perhaps insanely spoiled.

Ralph didn’t really meow; he quacked. Sometimes, he’d be somewhere in the house, lying around or wandering about, quacking like a duck. I think hearing that distinctive little quack is one of the things we’ll miss most.

Outliving our pets has got to be the hardest part of pet ownership. We still have four other cats, none of whom are particularly young. So, it’s pretty much a given that we’ll go through this who knows how many more times. But it’s always worth it. The memories of little Ralph are precious to us, and, thankfully, we have a vast collection of cat pictures, Ralph being prominent among them.

Rest well, buddy.

 

Another Fun Visit with Penny Dreadful

Author/Editor Katherine Kerestman and I dropped in on Penny Dreadful’s Terror at Collinwood podcast the other day, and the episode has now been posted for your frightful pleasure. We talk about Dark Shadows, of course; the upcoming The Weird Cat anthology, edited by Katherine and S.T. Joshi, which features short fiction by both Katherine, me, and a ton of noteworthy authors; Deathrealm: Spirits, my new anthology, due in October; plus all kinds of other fun stuff. Mind you don't get seduced!

 

No... wait... go right ahead. Get seduced. Try it, you'll like it.

 

PS: Frazier likes Dark Shadows and makes a guest appearance.

Coming Soon — The Weird Cat!

The Weird Cat is a new anthology edited by Katherine Kerestman and S.T. Joshi, which features — among a stellar list of both classic and contemporary authors of dark fiction — my short story, “Nimbus.” I do not exaggerate when I tell you that this is one of my most unsettling and emotionally engaging works of fiction. The book, due in October from WordCrafts Press, is now available for pre-order from Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com.

“...Cats dwell in a larger world than our own — the gulfs and abysses of which we can obtain but a shadowy glimpse. In The Weird Cat, you delve into that larger realm through more than three dozen short stories, poems, and essays by masters of the craft including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Rudyard Kipling, H.P. Lovecraft, Mary A. Turzillo, Christina Sng, Darrell Schweitzer, and others.”

Complete list of authors in The Weird Cat:
• Ambrose Bierce • Algernon Blackwood • William Blake • Adam Bolivar • Ramsey Campbell • Lewis Carroll • Frank Coffman • Sir Arthur Conan Doyle • Lord Dunsany • Jason C. Eckhardt • Alan Dean Foster • Brandon R. Grafius • Lafcadio Hearn • Katherine Kerestman • Caitlin R. Kiernan • Rudyard Kipling • Tony LaMalfa • Lori R. Lopez • H.P. Lovecraft • E. Nesbit • Elliott O'Donnell • Manuel Perez-Campos • Michael Potts • Stephen Mark Rainey • Rainer Maria Rilke • Sax Rohmer • Hank Schwaeble • Darrell Schweitzer • Robert W. Service • M.P. Shiel • Christina Sng • Anna Taborska • Mary Turzillo • M.F. Webb • W.B. Yeats • Cover art by Mike Parks

A Perfect Storm

A much-needed evening oasis at friend Samaire’s place

Sigh. I was going to sit here and elaborate on how stressful and even traumatic some of the snowballing issues that have beset Brugger and me over the past month or so have been (I did, in fact, compose a considerable number of words on the subject). I deleted the bulk of them because it all began to sound like a great big whine. Still, I can’t help it; here is a bit of that post, abridged.

For me, April has historically been the worst month in existence, since it’s in April that I lost my dad, more good friends than the law ought to allow, and the majority of my many beloved pets. Beyond that, it’s in April that the universe, with perverse glee, releases the storm of misfortune it has saved up for us over the course of the preceding year with a great big “BLAM!”

This year, the horrendous sewer line issues that hit us, beginning in March (of which some of you are at least aware, since I did whine a bit), seemed to set off a veritable freight train of new and damn near catastrophically expensive issues.

However, as I wrote this little treatise, it all began to sound like a big whine. Now, on occasion (sometimes on frequent occasions), I have been known to vent. Anyone who has heard me vent will almost certainly testify that, to the chronic pessimist, my vent is a thing of rare beauty. Conversely, to the blissful live-for-today-first-world-problems-mean-naught-zen-is-good kind of soul (or simply the uninitiated), more a display of explosive horror (or perhaps amusement, in the way that a spectacular self-inflicted injury can make one chuckle). All that said, there is little more I hate than coming across as a fucking crybaby. Life can be a goddamn bitch, and I know damn well that many, MANY folks would trade places with me in an instant. I’m not without some degree of self-awareness.

Still, in the spirit of my original post, suffice it to say that I’m gonna call this April a pilgrimage to the summit of Fuck-This-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Bullshit-Fucking-What-the-Fuckity-Fuck Mountain. To the more level-headed, even-tempered souls among you (however deluded you might be), this was a mere uptick in the severity of pretty-damned-severe first-world problems.

There were good things. In fact, many good things. Most recently, Scares That Care AuthorCon II was one of the best events ever, as far as affirming my life choices as a writer. Similarly, Shortwave Publishing announced what I feel is one of the most important creative projects I’ve overseen, the next chapter in the history of Deathrealm, a brainchild of mine from almost four decades ago. I sold a couple of short stories. And this April saw some lovely times with good, GOOD friends, which helped me realign my sights on what’s really important.

Well, okay, yeah, I’ve still whined (and I’ll do it again, maybe soon). But this one is fucking done. At least April is, until next year, history.

Experiment in Terror

I always enjoy putting up the Christmas decorations at the old homestead, a.k.a. Pleasant Hill, in Martinsville, but this year is going to be a little different. With my daughter, Allison, and her best pal, Cannoli, currently residing here, things may end up... interesting. You see, this is Cannoli's first Christmas, at least as a member of this family. He's plenty young and plenty full of vim and vigor, so it's a toss-up whether the tree and household decorations will survive the season (or even the first night). So far, he has shown a little curiosity about the colorful additions to the house, but he hasn't indulged any destructive impulses. Whether this relatively tranquil state of affairs lasts... well, it's anyone's guess.

Initially, I was thinking it might be well to forgo putting up the tree, but as Allison and I talked over our arrangements for the holidays, we decided to chance it. It is tradition, after all; in my six-plus decades of existence, there has never been a Christmas without a tree in this house. Of course, in my six-plus decades of existence, only when I was a wee young lad did a feline also occupy this dwelling. To the best of my recollection from those days, we suffered no cat vs. Christmas tree disasters. Here's hoping for an equally positive experience.

Cannoli: "do i eat it, climb it, or knock it down?"

Cannoli

So, one of the world’s most adorable little cats wandered around to the old homestead in Martinsville, where my daughter is living temporarily. Kitty is a very young, fixed male, about 8 months old by our reckoning. He appears healthy and is exceedingly friendly. We’ve posted notices about him, but no one has come forth to claim him. Allison named him Cannoli. For now, he’s pretty much a resident. If anyone in our area — Martinsville/Henry County, VA to the Piedmont Triad of NC — recognizes him or is interested in adopting him, please shoot me a message.

Rainey’s Orange Cat Wine Bar

In the Better-Late-Than-Never Department: Brugger’s birthday present to me finally arrived. Best present ever, really. I reckon this will be displayed prominently somewhere around the house.

A Different Kind of Day, Week, Month, Year...

I think it’s safe to say that, for me—and probably for about every person on the planet—every day during this pandemic period feels different from anything we have ever perceived as “normal”: it’s a little weird; sometimes frightening; always stressful, sometimes overtly, sometimes subtly. Brugger and I are fortunate that, at least for now, we are still able to work from home, so we are not facing truly desperate times, as so many of us are. This could change tomorrow, or next week, or next month, but I have become somewhat more adept at living each day for what it is rather than looking at every potential dire thingummy lurking around the next bend, which has been my typical modus operandi. So, Ms. B. and I are trying to make the best of each day, take every measure to keep ourselves free of COVID-19 cooties, and basically live for life—responsibly and with care for our neighbors. There are way, way too many people refusing to take this global situation seriously, and I am afraid they are the reason we aren’t going to see appreciably better days anytime soon.

It’s Memorial Day weekend, and some of the restrictions in the state have eased a bit (which means that a huge percentage of the population is out there gathering and celebrating as if COVID-19 is a thing of the past; damned fools). Last night, Ms. B. and I had our friends Terry and Beth over to my place, where we gathered (at a very suitable distance) under the canopy tent I had picked up a while back for this year’s Oktoberfest in Martinsville, which may or may not actually happen. We all supplied our own wine, wine glasses, appetizers, and such, and we ordered pizza out from Marco’s Pizza, which is our favorite pizza joint around here. The evening turned out to be pleasant beyond pleasant. I trust our friends had a nice time.

This morning, a couple of new geocaches came out in High Point, so I set after them and snagged FTFs (first-to-find) on both. The cats and I have been hard at work on a new short story (see “Country of the Snake,” Friday, May 22), but I’ve spent so much time editing out cat words that, this afternoon, just for shits and giggles, I set up my home office outside under the canopy. It was muggy as hell and the mosquitoes were plentiful, but the fan blowing and a good dousing of bug spray kept things tolerable out there—although I think a couple of the little bastards got through to my feetz. Damned bloodsuckers. I put the cats to work researching stuff for me. You can guess how that went.

A little while ago, I managed to get the canopy back inside just before the big thunderstorms set in (which are dumping something fierce right about now). And tomorrow, barring really nasty weather, there is Memorial Day geocaching on the docket. Here’s hoping. And please, do remember what Memorial Day is actually all about. Try asking yourself: are you conducting yourself during this bad spell in a way that honors what so many members of our armed services fought and died for? If you’re protesting wearing masks, mocking people who do, willfully ignoring social distancing, and otherwise denying that we have a true crisis through which we should all be working together, I would say the only thing you are honoring is your own petty, selfish ego. This is especially egregious for those of you who claim to be Christians. I know an awful lot of you who fit this shameful bill.

Do better. Please.

Hey, look! Brugger has tamed the wild beast atop her head... at least for the time being.

Research assistant researches

Droolie impersonates stuffed tiger, emphasis on “stuffed.”