Poets Square: A Memoir in Thirty Cats

What could accidentally moving into a house with thirty feral cats teach you about going viral, surviving capitalism, and the importance of community? Kind of a lot, actually.

When Courtney Gustafson moved into a rental house in the Poets Square neighborhood of Tucson, Arizona, she didn’t know that the property came with thirty feral cats. Focused only on her own survival—in a new relationship, during a pandemic, with poor mental health and a job that didn’t pay enough—Courtney was reluctant to spend any of her own time or money caring for the wayward animals.

But the cats—their pleading eyes, their ribs showing, the new kittens born in the driveway—didn’t give her a choice.

She had no idea about the grief and hardship of animal rescue, the staggering size of the problem in neighborhoods across the country. And she couldn’t have imagined how that struggle—towards an ethics of care, of individuals trying their best amidst spectacularly failing systems—would help pierce a personal darkness she’d wrestled for with much of her life. She also didn’t expect that the TikTok and Instagram accounts she created to share the quirky personalities of the wild, but lovable cats, like Mushroom Risotto, Bubbles, Goldie, and Sad Boy, would end up saving her home.

Courtney writes toward a vision of community—from the dark alleys where she feeds feral cats, from inside the tragically neglected homes where she climbs over piles of trash and occasionally animals, from her own driveway with the cats she loves and must sometimes let go. Compelling and tender, Poets Square is as much about cats as it is about the urgency of care, community, and a little bit of dumb hope, in a world that can feel insurmountably broken.