Poe Discovers Mirror; Declares War on “Other Cat”
Akela Jean Underland’s Box Fort Upgraded to Include Moat
Mowgli Hosts Symposium on Tuna Ethics; Attendance: Self
This Week in Underland:
- The Puppy-Sitting Saga: The household remains in upheaval as the energetic spaniel continues her reign of terror. The cats are plotting. We spectate. And await our fate.
- Career Crossroads: River is navigating the job market in Thailand, seeking a role that brings smiles and purpose. Suggestions welcome, as long as they don’t involve puppy wrangling.
- Creative Endeavors: Celia’s latest piece, “Aberfan: Tip 7,” has been published on Spillwords. A memory of her Grandfather’s experience at Aberfan as a young boy from the village near the disaster. Reads would be appreciated. If political satire is more your thing, then check out our runner up in the Vocal Absurdist Awakening Challenge, ‘The Art of the Fowl ‘
Void Ventures: Navigating the Labyrinth of Underland.
Send help! We’re beat here in Underland. Puppies are hard work—especially when they’re chaotic and teething. Maisy Mae is very cute, but I’m beginning to wonder if her lack of self-preservation instincts is actually an active death wish. The little thing puts just about everything in her mouth. Eat first, figure out what it is later.
I’m not sure where she finds all the cardboard she’s uncovered this past week, but somehow, she manages it.
I suppose the bright side is she’s pretty adorable when she’s not addressing the world mouth-first. We’ve just about grasped some of the most basic manners, so it’s looking up for us.
On a completely different—and quite a bit darker—note, we got harassed at the pub on Saturday. Some little man decided it would be hilarious to ask me and my wife which one of us wears the dildo. It was disgusting. It was inherently violent. In that moment, we didn’t feel safe defending ourselves verbally.
He stood over us. He said awful things. He outed us over and over again to everyone in the bar.
It’s strange to be in 2025 and still see men thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, but the world outside Underland is looking darker than the one inside.
We love each other. We create together. We laugh all the time. And we’re more than ready to face the world together.
It’s frustrating that we still have to be careful about who we share that love with. We went out for a pint to take a break from the dog and ended up having to leave because some dickhead had too much to drink and wanted to prove he was a big man to his mates. Gross.
Anyway, we went home and wrote a poem about it (find it here). Then we got angry. Then we went to sleep. Because we’re very boring and we just want to live a peaceful life with our cats, our writing, and the occasional quiet pint at the pub.
We recently watched Adolescence on Netflix, and since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about how men are raised—by their parents and by society. I keep wondering who taught that man to act like he did. Who taught him that victimization could be wrapped in “having fun”? Because that’s exactly how he thought he was presenting himself.
When I say “implicitly violent,” I mean that his instincts came from a place of violence. When we made it clear his questions were inappropriate, he just shrugged and said, “It’s just who I am, I have to tell it like it is.” That tells me he’s been allowed—encouraged, even—to act like a fool.
Not one of his friends told him to leave us alone. One of them half-heartedly tried at one point, but when the man pushed back with, “I’m just having a laugh,” his friend didn’t try again.
Hannah Gadsby said in her stand-up special Douglas: “We are not preparing our boys for the real world.” After that interaction, I can’t help but agree. Society gives men permission to remain adolescent in their social abilities. As long as their behavior toes the line (and even when it doesn’t) of being “fun” or “harmless,” it’s allowed to continue without question.
I could go on, but I won’t today.
Instead, I’ll leave you with one final moment of Maisy chaos: I was in the living room when I heard a distressed “Babe!” from the bathroom. I walked across the house, looked into the toilet (because that’s where Celia was pointing), and saw a dead mouse.
I screamed.
I worked in a reptile shop, so I’ve seen my fair share of dead rodents, but this was different. It looked so alive. We’re assuming Maisy chased it into the bathroom, it tried to escape, and ended up falling in the toilet. Gross. And sad. Poor thing never had a chance.
The weather in Wales is much nicer the past few weeks, and let me tell you what a difference the sun makes. You live in a gorgeous country folks, but the months without sun are a lot. I’d like to thank my wife and the academy for my sanity ;). Spring has sprung though and I am very much enjoying the warm day in the sun in our garden, I don’t even think of it as a yard anymore. I’m adjusting just fine.
Soon, it’ll be just us and our paws again. We’re both looking forward to it. Our stinky guest is very adorable and very endearing, but we’ll be happy when the pitter-patter of paws is feline only once more. Until then we will continue living our cosy, quiet, boring, life which is all we really want.
Until next time,
xo
R
As we juggle the chaos of pets, career shifts, and creative endevouring, we are grateful for our little life and the memories, good and bad, we are creating as each day passes. Viva la boring.
Peace and all the good stuff,
C x
If you’re reading this and you’re in the In-Between too — we see you. Let us know you’re out there.
Dispatches from the Void: Volume I →
If this resonated, share it on Bluesky (or anywhere folks still have an attention span longer than a moth after a sleepless night), leave us a comment, or check out our latest anthologies
Poetry Collection, ‘Is this all we get?’
Prose Collection, ‘ Fifth Avenue Pizza’
Discover more from River and Celia Underland
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