Cat Tails/Tales

Several years ago I was into making little books of my poems and stories. They were all pretty much the size of a quartered sheet of cardstock, 5.5 x 4.25. Little pieces of my soul that you could hold in your hand. One of the books was comprised of little stories that all had cats in them. Hence the cutesy title above. Below are two of the stories.

Catdream

I had a wonderful dream.

I was a famous cat breeder and trainer, and in great demand by people in the entertainment business. It was a status symbol to own one of my cats.

Beautiful models would refuse to pose unless there was one of my cats in the picture.

Movie stars would demand not only their own trailer on the set, but their own cat. And it had to be one of my cats.

When I awoke, at first I was sad that it was only a dream. But then I figured it was OK.

I probably wouldn’t have handled fame all that well.

I probably would’ve become a snob and been difficult to deal with.

I might even have taken to drink.

I might’ve gambled away my millions and been forced to sell my cats from the back of my car, where I would be living since the foreclosure on my mansion.

Yes, it’s just as well that it was only a dream.

But I hope I have that dream again.

~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~ 

 

Faux-paw

They were sitting companionably in the back yard after dinner. The lawn chairs were next to the fence, under the camphor tree. He smoked his pipe as she read her magazine. On the other side of the fence they heard classical music playing.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Bach, I think,” he replied.

“I thought they were going to be gone this weekend,” she said.
“So did I.”

They both got up and stood on tiptoe to look over the fence. They saw the neighbor’s cats, Tommy and Bunny.

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

“It looks like a Minuet,” he murmured.

Just then, the music ended. The cats parted and curled up on opposite ends of the patio.

“How strange!” she said, and sat down to finish her magazine.

“I agree,” he said thoughtfully, relighting his pipe. “The music was more appropriate for a Gavotte.”

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