Farewell Summer 2026

It was the worst of times. And, yet, it’s how you choose to experience it…. 

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I look down at Muttsy in the driveway, the tabby/ginger mix looking back up at me where I am in my second story window, and I realize I only have maybe one or two summers left with him, three at the outside. Maybe this is the last. He’s already going on eight years old, which is ancient for a feral cat. I’ve already had him and Marmalade and Mandy for longer than I enjoyed the circus that was the Blue Porch Kitty Committee, when we had no less than 13 cats alternately lounging and frolicking in our front yard. All that was over before we were halfway through that awful year that was 2020. Most of my reason for living now is to outlive these last three cats so they won’t come out to the porch one day—and for days after—and wonder where the food is.

When they’re gone, when the last of our indoor cats and our one dog are gone, I’ll be fine with dying. This is no world I care to live in as an old man. I honestly wonder how the young people stand it sometimes.

Given the age of our dog when we got her, I’ll have to live at least ten more years. I’ll be in my mid-70s then. Talk about your challenges. Can you imagine what kind of country we’ll be living in (wherever you are) in 2036? Best just to prepare as best we can and meet it as it comes. Me, I’ve got animal friends to feed. I throw treats from my open window to the three ferals gathered below. It’s our evening ritual, one we all cherish, and hope to cherish for a while yet.

Which is all to say, that as much as I’ve loathed this artificially super-heated summer on the heels of a preternaturally brief winter, I’m a little melancholy for its passing. It means other things are passing, too. At my age, you genuinely wonder how many of these seasons you have left. How many of your animal friends have left. However many seasons people you know and love have left.

Let’s pray we at least get a nice, picturesque autumn, with lots of snow this winter. Labor Day is coming up, then the glory of October, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas. At least we still have all that to look forward to.

The news these past few weeks has been an absolute horror show. I don’t even want to so much as vaguely allude to what’s been going on. We already know this has been an awful year, for Western Civilization and what’s left of its culture. The 250^th anniversary of the United States’ declaration of independence is already forgotten like the sad and empty thing it was. The parasites running things have long since completely chewed out the institutional underpinnings and the United States of America is finished as a superpower. They’re already doing their victory dance even as they have murdered their host, and their own passing isn’t far behind.

What is there to talk about that’s not already being talked to death on social media? You might like this even less, but I believe in a loving God Who is also just, and is coming soon to put paid to the evil that rules the world. Mock, scoff, spout the usual tired catchphrases, but I’ve seen the evidence for myself. I’m genuinely sorry if you cannot. Make your usual noises; I’ll be shunning that along with all the other invitations to anger and hatred coming at me 24/7 from the news. I do not wish, nor do I see the utility of, living in a never-ending state of rage and anxiety.

The sun is still here to shine its light on the leaves and on the faces of the trees. The squirrels still chase each other through the branches. Flocks of birds, some I haven’t even seen before, stop by porch to grab pieces of the kibble and drink the water I’ve set out for the cats—at least when the young squirrels aren’t already having at it.

I walk the streets of my town and see parents walking behind their small children as they put everything they’ve got into pedaling their little starter bicycles, rocking side to side on their training wheels. I see the smiles on the dogs as they’re walked along by their owners. The sun still shines. The moon goes through its cycles. The cool breezes whisper of the changing season. I have another birthday coming up. Maybe I’ll live to celebrate it with a scrumptious dinner, accompanied by the one-and-only wife I never thought I’d have, except that the God I used to curse and dismiss had His plans.

I try not to take these days for granted but they often get away from me. I’m on the Internet to run a community page and calendar and I see the news and everything gets away from me. By the grace of Christ Jesus, I will get control of this.

Labor Day is coming. Before we know it, October, then Thanksgiving and Christmas will be here. Maybe I’ll see my grown children for one or all of these. Maybe not, and that’s fine, too. They’ve got their own schedule of struggles, and I pray for them.

I refuse the spirit of this world. I choose the Spirit of peace and joy, wholesome Goodness and freedom from terror and grief. It’s that simple.

Sucks to be you? It doesn’t have to. Just saying.

Throw Some Kibble My Way!