“The duende, then, is a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. I have heard an old maestro of the guitar say, ‘The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet.’ Meaning this: it is not a question of ability, but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation … everything that has black sounds in it, has duende.”
Rude Awakening: Morning Ritual
The duende of the old cat’s wail jars me from a dream.
Her volume grows with every piercing, throaty, grating scream.
And though it seems her hunger cannot wait for light,
when I spoon out her victuals, she does not take a bite.
I rub her ears and skull and chin now that I’m awake
as the first muted rays of light soak into the lake.
The dogs detect my movement and paw their haven’s door,
scraping their metal dishes across the tile floor.
Outside the far-off kitchen, the young cats voice their wail,
calling me too early to my day’s travail.
Reluctantly I slog out to fulfill their rude request,
as the old cat circles and sinks to her warm nest.
Since her breakfast, still untouched, sits crusting in her bowl,
it seems that desayuno never was her goal.
She’s merely been the chanticleer who has done her best
to arouse the world before returning to her rest.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
What masterful display of word power.
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Thanks, Sadje…It was my duende rising from within me! ;o)
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Hahaha. Asserting her mastery and domain, perhaps not as buglerette, but as governess (with little finesse).
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You give her too noble a motive, Dale. She simply wants attention. Usually at 4 a.m. and again around 8. She is a tyrant.
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Wonderful poet. It speaks also your wondrous love for your living (loving) companions.
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Thanks, Regina.xo
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Love these kitties since you first brought them home. Dog tongue is hilarious
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He has to resort to extreme body language to be fed on time!!! Mom sometimes overlooks mere barks and scratchings on the door.
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The dogs have a lot of competition😂
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They do. Would you believe I did a little DOD shrine for Frida, my oldest dog who died several years ago. I put it on the floor where his doggie spirit could reach it. I had two dog bones on a plate (the cookie kind) and they kept disappearing. A few days ago I heard a crunching and Ollie, my large male cat, had eaten one and was finishing off the other. I’d never heard of cats eating doggie treats before.
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Ours did.
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Now I know! I know dogs love cat food.. but thought the bones too hard and crunchy for cats.
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Lovely poem, Judy; warmed my heart. She might be old, but she is still both beautiful and clever.
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She still looks like a kitten to me.
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She does, not only to you.
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You really are the cat lady, catering to their every whim! I don’t think I’d be quite so generous as to wake up that early to feed them food that won’t be eaten for several hours! They really are beautiful, and have wonderful personalities (no, that has to be felinealities!). I love the story of the shrine for Frida!
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Annie is the only one who cries and doesn’t eat and her age gives her that perogative. The rest scarf!!!
I think she’s mainly begging for a rub and attention.
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