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.”

abcd         

The Easter Bunny

Many years ago, when my niece was a little girl, I would write stories for her. This is one of them.

Pete was a happy rabbit and the oldest of 14 brothers and sisters. He went to school, helped out at home and generally enjoyed life.

One day after dinner, Pete’s father asked him to join him in his workshop in the back. This was very unusual. No one went into Daddy’s workshop! All the bunny siblings knew to stay out of the workshop. Even Mommy stayed out, knocking on the door if Daddy was in there and it was time for dinner.

Pete was a little nervous, but followed his dad out to the workshop. When they stepped inside and shut the door, Pete’s eyes popped in amazement. All the shelves were filled with eggs! There were cans of paint all along the baseboards. Every color in the rainbow! On a small workbench in one corner were several jars with paintbrushes in them. “Wow, Dad! What is all this?” Pete exclaimed.

“It’s time you knew the true nature of the family business, Son,” said his dad. “You’re old enough now to start helping me and someday take over when I retire. Son, I am The Easter Bunny.”

Pete was stunned. Then he was excited. Then he started getting nervous again. “Er, Dad, I can’t paint…”

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Bunny. “All it takes is a little practice. Soon you’ll be decorating eggs like you were born to it. Which you were, actually. The business has always gone from father to son.”

“But Dad, I don’t even like painting! I don’t want to be The Easter Bunny!”

“Now Pete, calm down,” said Mr. Bunny. “It’s not like you’re taking over right away. I still intend to be around for a few more years. You’ll learn. You’re smart.”

“Why can’t Corrie be the new Easter Bunny? She loves to paint and is very talented. She’s only a year younger than me.”

“Son, I’m afraid that’s not possible. The Easter Bunny has always been a male. Your sister may be talented, but it’s out of the question for her to take over. And the oldest of your other brothers is far too young to even consider. Besides, what else would you be doing?”

In a small voice, Pete said, “I want to be an architect. I want to build high-rises.”

“I’m sorry Pete. I’m afraid you’ll have to do your duty.”

So Pete began helping his father. His brothers and sisters were in awe of Pete because he got to go into Daddy’s workshop. The only one who knew what Pete was doing was Corrie. Pete told her that he was being trained to become The Easter Bunny when Daddy retired and that he’d tried to get Daddy to let Corrie take over. She was very angry because she loved painting and knew she would be an excellent Easter Bunny. She thought it was very unfair that just because she was a girl she wouldn’t be allowed to even try.

The days went by, and after school Pete would go into the workshop and start painting a few eggs. They didn’t look very good, because his heart wasn’t in it, but his dad told him to keep trying and eventually he’d get the hang of it. Easter came around and Mr. Bunny loaded up the eggs he and Pete had done. Even though Pete’s eggs didn’t look that great, they were used. Mr. Bunny told Pete that next year’s eggs would be better, just wait and see.

When it was time to start working on the new batch of eggs, Pete had an idea. He told his dad that he wanted to work on the eggs first thing in the morning, before school. That way he wouldn’t be tired from a day at school and would have more time for his homework. His dad thought that would be a good idea, as long as it didn’t make him too tired for school. “We’ll try it that way for a while, and if the eggs look good, and you’re getting good grades, then OK,” said Mr. Bunny. So Pete went into the workshop in the mornings and Mr. Bunny worked there in the evenings.

Mr. Bunny noticed right away that Pete seemed to have improved greatly in his painting. The eggs looked a lot better than last year’s and there were even some new designs that he thought were particularly nice. “I knew the boy would get the hang of it if he just tried a little harder.” Mr. Bunny thought.

When it was almost time to finish up the last eggs for Easter, Mr. Bunny went into the workshop early that morning to make sure all was ready. Imagine his surprise when he walked in the door to see Pete curled up asleep in a corner hugging a book on architecture and Corrie at the workbench happily painting eggs! “What is going on here?” he said.

“Ooh! Daddy! You surprised me!” squealed Corrie, almost dropping an egg. Pete woke up with a start and looked around in panic, shoving his book behind a can of paint.

“I think an explanation is in order,” said Mr. Bunny. “Pete, you first.”

“Ummm. Well, ah, I thought Corrie was so much better at this than me, and um, I really didn’t want children to be disappointed by getting crummy eggs like I did last year, and uh, I don’t think it’s fair that girls can’t be Easter Bunnies, and I really would rather be an architect and Corrie is much better at this….”

“Stop, Son, you’re starting to repeat yourself. Corrie?”

“Oh, Daddy, I’d LOVE to be the new Easter Bunny! I LOVE to paint and I LOVE children and I think I’d be SO good at this if given a chance and I heard you telling Pete that you thought this year’s eggs were the best you’d ever seen…”

“OK kids, calm down,” said Mr. Bunny. “I need to think.”

Pete and Corrie waited nervously.

“Well,” said Mr. Bunny. “It’s too late to do any more eggs, so we’ll have to use Corrie’s…”

(“Yay!” said Corrie, jumping up and down.) “…HOWEVER,” said Mr. Bunny, “I’m very disappointed Pete, in how this was all done behind my back. Let’s load up the eggs and we’ll talk later.”

After dinner that night, Mr. Bunny asked both Pete and Corrie to join him in the workshop. When the door was closed, Mr. Bunny said, “I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m still disappointed that you won’t become the next Easter Bunny, Pete, but it’s obvious your heart is elsewhere. Corrie, I’m not very happy at your part in this, but it’s obvious as well that you are a very talented painter. This has always been a father to son business, but I guess for now it will be a father to daughter one. Corrie, the paint brushes are yours. Pete, get your book from behind the paint can.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Wheee!” cried Corrie, giving her father a big hug. Pete sheepishly got his book and looked much happier.

So Corrie eventually became the next Easter Bunny and Pete went on to become a famous architect known for his unusual bunny high-rises.

The End

8 Random Words - #1

One of the many meme and blog prompt sites I visit has a random word generator that spits out 8 random words to work with as you will. Story, poem, whatever. I decided to give it a whirl.

#1 athlete, tall, alarm, gift, soothe, piano, wide, command

KB was an athlete, very tall and graceful. He was also beautiful. Both men and women would see him and comment on his physical attributes. Whenever his team played in his home town, tickets would sell out immediately. Scalpers could command any price they wished. And they would get it, too. His alarm would go off on game day and he would rise and prepare. As a professional, he focused on nothing but the upcoming game.

He had another gift that he kept secret. He played the piano like an angel would play a harp. His wide hand span made playing octaves or more easy to reach. He kept this part of his life secret from everyone else so he could have something that was just his alone. Whenever the games, the crowds, the adulation got to be too much to bear, he would go to the small apartment that no one knew about. It had a bed and the basic kitchen stuff for when he got hungry, but the only other piece of furniture was a baby grand in the middle of the living room. He would approach the piano as if meeting with a lover. He would get the music from the piano bench, sit down and flex his long graceful fingers. Then he would play. For hours. Letting the music soothe his battered soul.