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Think your cat is harmless? Just an animal? Just a family friend? Listen to my story, and judge for yourself. Oh, and by the way, you may want to remove Fluffy from your lap while reading this; he may catch a glimpse and get ideas of his own.

Being the softhearted person that I am, I fell in love with a homeless, skinny tomcat from my local Animal Protection League. He looked so kind, so helpless.  What choice did I have? I had to take him home. What real harm can a cat cause anyway??   

My husband and I recently achieved one of the goals most people strive for.  We purchased our first home. So now we have two point five children, a dog, and now a cat.  Finally! Living part of the American dream! Perfect!  Or, perhaps I should say Purr-fect? 

I have now realized we didn’t do any of this for ourselves.  We did it for our cat. Remember that sweet, helpless stray? (I believe the cat act may only be a ploy to make me believe he really is a cat and not an alien in guise set on world domination.)

I named the newest furry member of our family Hunter. Due to the fact that within his first twenty-four hours in our home, he proved to be quite apt at rodent termination, it seemed rather appropriate.  However, I found under his food bowl this morning what appeared to be a ransom note.  It said my new sleigh bed would be turned into a scratching post if his name were not changed officially to “Boss” and, it reminded me I had not straightened the blankets yet this morning and it was approaching his nap time.  This unnerved me a bit. 

He’s also decided he would be the hairdresser of the house.  While I attempted to place pony tales in my daughter’s hair, he pounced on the fluffy hair ties and carried them away.  It looked deceptively cute, but I know otherwise.  These things always start little. Perhaps it’s payback for that whole neutering thing; maybe he’s upset about putting on those few extra pounds since the “procedure”. 

I even noticed my dog acting differently.  Whenever Boss enters a room, the dog stops whatever she’s doing, even eating, and leaves.  It too me two years just to teach the dog to come when called, what powers does this “cat” hold??

My children have succumbed to his hypnotism, they spend hours brushing him, making little cardboard houses for him, and begging me to buy kitty treats at the grocery store. Even my husband, the “I don’t like cats” man has resigned that his home, bed and his lap belong to Hunter. OUCH! STOP! CLAWS! I MENT BOSS! I MENT BOSS!

Hunt…. I mean Boss is watching me right now. Yes, there he is, looking nonchalant, eyeing me. I think he’s sizing me up, trying to decide if he can take me out or not.  He must have decided my computer chair belongs to him as well; I’ll have to type quickly. I’m not completely sure, but I believe he just winked at me.

Herein lies my warning, I found him lying on the keyboard earlier.  It all looked innocent enough, but I’m not so sure.  I think he may have been emailing his co-hearts in crime, getting ready to execute the full coup on my home.  Be forewarned, keep your “cat” away from your computer, I’m not sure how extensive Boss’s address book is, he may have already been in contact with your keeper, umm… I mean cat.

While my home is already in the late stages of takeover, maybe, just maybe, we can prevent it from happening to you.

So, is it wrong to have more pictures of your chihuahua than your children?  Not asking for any particular reason, just curious:) I mean, come on though, if you’re chihuahua was this cute how could you not just love him to death?

Installment #3, unedited and raw.

Adrian stood above the boy’s bed, bucket of water in hand.  He had to be tough; it was time for the boy to leave his home.  The old man was having second thoughts, what if he just took the money and moved on, taking the boy with him.  No, that would never work, he had made a promise to Thonas, and he was a man of his word.  He knew Thonas would not intentionally allow harm to come to the boy, but who knows in what troubles they would find themselves. The old man pushed the thoughts out of his head; this is how it had to be.  He had known this day would come, even though he wished it had not. Today, the boy he had called his son for so many years, would be gone from him.

Christian’s arms flailed and he gasped for air, he was choking, no, drowning.  He could taste the seawater in his mouth and feel the burning of the salt in his eyes and nose.  The boy threw his body upward, as if swimming to the surface of the sea, trying to escape his watery demise.  However, he only succeeded in throwing his body off the bed and onto the floor with a wakening thud.  Adrian watched the boy lie there for a moment, face down, with water pooling on the floor around him, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath.  Blood dripped from the boys nose, and pain shot through his head from the inhaled salt water.

“Get thee up!” came his father’s familiar voice from above him.  Getting his bearings, Christian stood, dripping wet and bloody.  He was certain he saw his father wince at the sight of him.  “Ye’ll be lazy and useless in me house no more” his father growled, “get out of me home and do not return ’til ye have respectable paying employment!”

The boy ducked just in time to avoid the bucket as it flew past his head and out the window into the street.  “Ne’er have I seen a lad o’ eighteen years with out a job!” finished his father. 

Shaking his head in disgust and without another word, the old man stormed from the house, slamming the door behind him. He paused outside the door wondering if he had been too harsh on the boy. No, this is what needed to be done, he had to leave, and it was time.

Christian stood there, silently for some time after he heard the door slam.  He thought to himself, “had his father lost his mind?  Had the old man gone crazy over night?  No talk of getting a job had been uttered out of his mouth before the rude awakening a few minutes ago; he had always assumed he would take over his father’s general store when the time came.  The boy had no idea what he had done to anger his father so.

“Mayhap this would be a good day to choose a profession,” he muttered to the walls as he began exchanging his wet clothes for dry.

_____________________________________

The boy expected to find his father in the store below his bedroom when he descended the stairs, but the living quarters and store were empty.  A hastily scrawled note was stuck to the door announcing a late opening this day. He could not remember his father ever delaying the opening of the store, but nothing today had been normal.  Christian ran his fingers through his hair attempting to straighten it as much he could and stepped out his door to find morning had fully come into his hometown of Nanholve.

Sounds of merchants putting their wares out for sale crept through the streets and the ring of hammer on metal, courtesy of the local blacksmith, woke anyone not already roused from their beds.  He was not sure where to start looking for work.  He pondered whether he should find an apprenticeship in the city or perhaps make his way to the pier and accept a position with one of the ship captains or with a caravan heading to Salaile.  Remembering his watery awakening, he thought perhaps the latter of the three would be his choice, he had, after all, never been to Salaile.  With his decision made, he headed toward the sound of the waves slapping on the sides of the ships in the harbor.

_________________________________________ 

            Thonas watched him ambling down the streets, weaving between crates and merchant carts lining the roadway.  He had grown into a decent looking young man; he possessed dark, almost black hair, luminescent green eyes and a thin, but strong build.  Adrian had done well with him.  Christian was healthy, strong young man.  He would need both of these attributes for what was in store for him.  Hopefully, he was as mentally strong as he was physically. 

Thonas nudged the dwarf working next to him loading a wagon and pointed out the boy as he neared the docks.  “That be him,” he announced.  The dwarf nodded with a grunt and pushed his way through the crowd towards the boy.

Her little chin bounced against her chest several times as she woke from her nap.  Small bits of drool trailed from her lip to the dirty t-shirt she wore.  Sweat had matted her white-blond hair to her head, and the back of her thighs had stuck to the old vinyl seats.

“Mommy,” she called toward the front seat of the car, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her fisted hands.

She mumbled for her mother again, there was still no answer.  She pulled herself up on her knees so that she could see out the window.  It was streaked with dirt and fingerprints, but the little girl could see her house, it was right there, just outside the car door. 

She banged on the window with her crusty little hands.  “Mommy!” She called as loudly as she could. Why isn’t anyone coming for me?  She wondered as panic crept into her young mind.  It was so hot, and the tears began leaking from the corners of her eyes. 

She wiped the tears from her reddened face with the back of her hand.  Dirt smeared across her cheeks and into her eyes.  Snot oozed from her nose, resting on the edge of her upper lip. She used the back of her forearm as a tissue leaving a smear of mucus from her nose to her ear. Her hands were hurting from pounding on the glass.

“Mommy! Daddy!” She shrieked again and again, her little voice cracking.

With her chest heaving, she moved her attention to the door handle.  She pulled as hard as she could, over and over again but the heavy door of the old Ford wouldn’t open to the arms of a three year old.  Tears came faster now, he throat was tight from her sobs, and her face a streaked mess.

She collapsed back onto the vinyl seat, her hands covering her eyes, rocking herself back and forth.  She fell back asleep.

Installment #2, unedited and raw.

Thonas found a bit of spring in his step as he wound his way through the alleys and cobblestone streets of Nanholve.  A faint glow was beginning to form at the edge of the sea as the sun was fighting its way from it’s nightly slumber.  He heard the scrape of footsteps move quickly out of his way as he crossed out of one shadow into another.  While most in the sleepy port city did not know his name, they recognized his face and stayed out of his way. 

            He found his way to the port side Sailor’s Mast Inn, where he was too meet up with the rest of his traveling party.  Once again, as he had many time in the past years, he had accepted a job escorting a caravan over the Pass to Salaile.  Once his mates had waken up, they would prepare for an early afternoon departure. 

            The front door of the Sailor’s Mast had the look of a patchwork quilt.  Different sized and shaped pieces of wood had been hammered into places that either a fist, foot or head had been pushed through during a rowdy night of drinking.  Boards cover what had been several windows. The sign announcing the name of the inn had long been torn from it’s hanging post and was simply nailed to the side of the building above the door. 

            Several scrolls had been nailed up next to the door looking for workers to join on upcoming sailings and caravan.  The scrolls that were generally successful were the ones that had pictures along with the words as the average sailor hasn’t grasped the art of reading. One such successful sign displayed a rather seedy drawing a voluptuous woman with an arrow pointing to the brothel next door.

            Thonas shook his head at the sign, “Rosie,” he laughed, as he pushed his way through the door. Being so early, the downstairs of the inn was deserted. The Sailor’s Mast was a two-story building.  The downstairs brandished tables scattered about randomly, some with chairs, and some without, a bar and a kitchen for preparing the slop the owner tried to pass off as food.  The walls were decorated with various sailing paraphernalia, such as nets, pieces of sails, ores and the like.  Dirt and mud disguised the true nature of the floor, but Thonas was pretty sure it was wood under all the muck.  The upstairs provided eight sleeping rooms, each with four cots, save one.  There was one room at the end of the hall with only one bed. Everyone knew that was for the pub wenches that were taking turns entertaining guests.

            Thonas had never ventured into that room; however, he did have the luck of sharing his room with the group leader, Udorus, a mean, angry little dwarf.  Most nights, cold or not, he usually had to sleep with the window open, just to prevent suffocating from the smell the dwarf released from his bowels unconsciously.

            As Thonas neared his room,  he was surprised to hear the voices of two people talking. He was certain one of them was Udorus, but could not place the other.  Both voices were low enough that he could not make out what they were saying.  He hesitated, and forced a cough before opening the door, hoping to give them a chance to halt their conversation before he entered.  Thonas glanced quickly around the room to assess the situation and found Udorus was sitting on the edge of his cot and a cloaked figure stood above him, the strangers face completely concealed from view.

            With a jump at the sight of Thonas and a stutter, Udorus sputtered to the cloaked figure, “I be tellin’ ye already, I don’t be needin’ any more crew for this trip, Thonas there,” the dwarf pointed a shaking finger towards the door, “has rounded up our last person this mornin’.” 

            The cloaked figure gave a slight jerk at the mention of Thonas, but did not look his way.  The unknown man nodded, drew his cloak closer around his body and swept himself out the door.

“What was that all about?” Thonas asked.

“It be nothin’” Udorus replied hastily, waving off the whole conversation, “Just some jobless wanderer lookin’ fer work.”

            Obvious that the dwarf would speak no more about the matter, Thonas changed the subject. He tossed a coin purse to Udorus and told him, “There is the gold I promised ye for taking the boy on this trip, he’ll be on the pier this morn.  Remember you our plan?”

“Aye,” the dwarf replied, “ I know what yer wantin’ me to do.”

So, I got an iPhone for Christmas this year, and I had to post some of my favorite apps just like everyone else.  Some of them are free, some of them cost a few bucks.  If you’ve got one or two you like, let me know so I can check them out.  I’m a app junkie.

1.       Premium Pageonce

Ok, I was going to cut and paste from their website the description, but that doesn’t say much.  I like this program, I even paid $9.99 for it, because I can with one push, see all of my accounts.  This includes my credit cards, bank accounts, airline miles accounts, retirement accounts, email accounts, everything.  It’s secure and there’s a web browser version for when you’re on your desktop/laptop.  I’ve not had any problems with it what-so-ever.  I use this program more than any others on my iPhone.

2.       Steady Cam

     I moved my original camera button and put Steadycam in it’s place.  Every single photo I took before steady cam was blurry.  This program allows you to hit the shutter button and then it doesn’t take the picture until the iPhone is still. It definitely makes a difference in the quality of the shots I’ve gotten. There is a free and .99 version.  I just went with the free.

3.       Flixster

Another free app, this one shows you what movies are playing at your local theater, or wherever you choose.  It gives you movie times, trailers to watch on your iPhone, ratings and descriptions.  You can also see listings of newly released DVDs as well as upcoming movies at both theaters and on DVD.  This makes it a whole lot easier than scanning through all the DVDs standing around at Blockbuster.

4.       Tip Master

A $.99 cent app, but I think it’s worth it.  (This could be due to the fact that I’m really bad about remembering tip rates).  This is a simple program that helps you figure the tip on a check.  But not just for restaurants.  It has 20 different scenarios including things like hairdressers.  It also takes into account how the service you received was, number in party etc. 

5.       Snap Tell

Ok, it may be that I like playing with this app is why I’m listing it.  With this program, you can snap a picture of a book cover, dvd, cd or video game and it will search the web for info on it.  This includes videos, prices etc.  It could be handy when looking for the best deal or trying to get the price down on an item when you’re shopping at a store that matches prices.

6.       What’s On TV?

With this app, a free one by the way, you can choose your cable network and it will list out all of your channels and what’s on.  Kind of like TV Guide, but cooler of course.  You can pick your favorites and be reminded when they are on.  You can search for upcoming episodes as well. Yeah, I use it to tell me when Stargate is coming on…I’m a geek.

7.       Voxie

I can’t even begin to list everything this program has in regards to voice recording.  Instead of buying a digital recorder for my college lectures this semester, I’m using this on my iPhone.  You can sync it to your pc via Wi-fi.  Not a bad option at $1.99. There is no restriction on file size except the room on your iPhone. 

8.       Lose It

Just about everyone I know is always trying to lose weight, eat better etc.  This free app is kind of nice.  It keeps track of what you’ve eaten with a pretty nice database.  You can also add foods to it.  You can also keep track of your exercise, nutrients and weight over time.  Like I said, it’s free.

9.       Word Press

If you like to use Word Press for your blog, this free app is a must.  You can post directly from your iPhone.  You can even setup multiple blogs in this app. Supports photos as well.  It also saves your work as a draft should it get interrupted by a phone call.

10.   Midomi

 Yeah, I’ve played with this one way too much as well.  You know that song that’s on the tip of your tongue and you just can’t remember the name of it.  You can hum, sing, type in the lyrics and this program will search out the name, artist, videos all kinds of information on what you’ve input.  It’s pretty good too, my kids have sung into it, I’ve hummed into it, it’s fun

Here’s the first chapter of a “book” I started to write a couple years ago.  It’s unedited and raw.  I’ll post the next chapter soon.

     The sign hanging from the post above the door squeaked as the breeze blew in off the ocean.  The predawn light did not allow for the wording to be read off the sign, but he knew what it said.  For nearly two decades he had frequented this little shop.  There was little he didn’t know about the building and the contents inside.

     The building was not fancy, wood and white-washed plaster had been the original siding, but years of standing next to the sea left large patches of moss growing over the sides and roof.  It appeared as if the building were sprouting patches of hair on its otherwise balding head. The white-wash was long from the white it had been years ago when it was first built.  It was now grayed and had long stains running down the sides from years of rain bleeding off the roof.

            The two front windows, one on each side of the central door, were dingy. The residue of the sea salt carried in the air left the glass covered in a white, crusty film.  It would appear the owner had long lost interest in scraping them clean. Small areas were rubbed clean, probably from a child that had ventured up to see if there were candies for sale inside.  A single wood door was the only entry or exit for the storefront and living quarters above and behind.

            He stood in the shadows, watching, waiting for a sign that the owner of this store he watched so intently was roused. The combined smell of sea, fish and garbage wafted through the alleyway causing his nostrils to flare in the hopes of gaining fresh air.  He had been unconsciously twisting the end of his  goatee into a sharp point as he leaned against the wall of the abandoned building facing his target. 

            His other hand fingered the dagger tucked neatly into his belt. He did not worry about being seen as most of the city was not yet awake. The only ones wandering the streets now were the drunken sailors heading back to their ships, wenches returning from their advantageous nights with well paying travelers, beggars digging for scraps and thieves feeding on all of them.  To the average person, he surely would have qualified as the latter. 

            As he stood his vigil, his mind wandered. How many times had he stood in the shadows watching this building over the last eighteen years? “It will be good to put all this secrecy and falsehood behind us,” he attempted to reassure himself.

            The faint glow of a candle from the upstairs bedroom brought him back to the present; it was time.  He moved so quickly and silently, that any rogue would have been impressed.  He cracked the door just enough to reach his hand to the top and restrain the bell tied to a leather tether above the door before it rang out, drawing attention to his entry.  He allowed himself a smirk in amazement at how many people do not bolt their doors.  A single floorboard did not give away his presence as he moved through the shelves an leapt the counter baring his way to the living quarters in the back of the store.

            Drawing back the separator curtain, he helped himself to a seat at the modest kitchen table.  This allowed him a clear view of the stairs leading to the sleeping quarters above.  The kitchen and living areas were still dark, but the man reviewed in his head the location of each major object in the home. Several cushioned benches found their way in an otherwise bare living quarters, and the kitchen area held only a table, two chairs and a fireplace.  A empty cooking pot would be hanging in the fireplace and yes, there it is, a magnificent broadsword placed over the mantle. 

            The sword looked very out of place in such a humble home.  The blade was intricately carved with runes that most humans could not read, and gold was laid into each one.  The hilt, while wrapped in leather, was seamless, smooth and soft to the touch.  It’s balance was so precise it could be balanced on a single nail.  The craftsmanship of such a weapon is not one to be found in the realm of humans. Surely any visitor to this home would question how such a masterpiece came to the likes of a shopkeeper.  However, he was certain, in almost two decades, there were very few people that had the opportunity to grace this kitchen with their presence.

            While it couldn’t be seen fully from his vantage point, he knew the upstairs contained only two bedrooms, one for the man of the house, and the other for his boy. The woman of the house had died long ago.  Perhaps that was the reasoning behind the modesty and lack of decoration within the home.

            The room lightened slightly as the candle and the man carrying it descended from his bedroom.  Before the light fully came upon his unexpected visitor the old man caught sight of the shadow of a man sitting at the table.  He tried to step back, letting out a little cry of shock and tripped backward onto the steps. The flame of the candle jumped, hot wax splattering onto the hand of the old man making him wince.  Whether it was truly from the wax or if it was from the sight of the man at his kitchen table is not completely certain.

            “Careful Adrian,” the younger man teased leaning forward so the light of the candle engulfed his face, “Ye’ll wake the boy; we’re not quite ready for that yet, are we?”

            Shaking his head in reply, he found his way down the remaining steps and joined his visitor at the table, feigning a deeper anger then was truly there, Adrian attempted to scold him,  “What’s the meaning scarin’ an old man like that, don’t ye know how to properly knock on a door?”  he replied with nothing more then a half-cocked grin, it just wasn’t his style to enter the customary way and Adrian knew it. The old man fell silent, staring hard at the man before him. He visually searched the kitchen for something to waver or change, hoping this was still a dream and he had yet to wake. 

            As he looked around, the room seemed to grow unfriendly with nothing more than the candlelight to try and chase away the shadows of the lingering night. The corners grew deep, as if they never ended and one could simply disappear into them forever. Drawing his attention back to his guest, the old man knew he was awake; he could not fool himself, as much as he wanted to.  Drawing in a deep breath he looked directly at the man sitting across from him, and even though he knew what the answer would be before he even finished uttering it, he asked, “Yer ready for him are ye?” in a dry whisper.

            Preparing himself, he held fast to the table with both hands, fearing he would fall to the floor if he did not, his gaze dropping from gray eyes of his guest to the rough and scarred wood under his hands. He felt the room spin, and while he didn’t look up, he knew the reply had been a nod.  Adrian continued in his whispered voice, his eyes cast down, “I’m not sure he’s ready for you.”

            “It matters not if he’s ready for me,” he reminded Adrian pushing himself up from the old mans table, “He is mine, and I have paid thee well for thy care in raising him.”

            From inside his vest, he pulled a purse of coins and tossed it on the table in front of the old man.  “Here is thy final payment, be sure he is on the pier this morning, I will take it from there.”

With that being said, he turned on his heel and strode as silently from the kitchen and storefront as he had entered. One thought filling his head, everything would be as planned.

            Adrian did not bother to look up as his visitor left the house.  He lowered his head to his hands and wept. It would not be until the sun fully shown through the kitchen window, relieving the now spent candle of its duty that he stopped.

I lay here on the ground next to the bus stop, alone, helpless and scared.  People are walking by me, yet no one will stop to see if I’m okay.  Doesn’t anyone realize I’m not where I belong?  I feel as though I’ve been discarded, left out for the garbage truck to take me away.

 My mate is gone,  I have not see him for several days.  We were a pair, I’m no good by myself. Why would anyone want to separate us?  I’m cold, wet and soggy now that I’ve been on this sidewalk for three days. The rain last night soaked my insides completely and chilled me to the sole.  I have nothing inside of me to fill me up like I should. 

When will someone at home notice that I am missing?  They can’t possibly go through another day without realizing that I’m gone.  Perhaps they thought I was hiding in the closet, playing a game of hide and seek, or maybe that I am playing with the dog out in the yard again.

There are so many people here, one of them is bound to trip over my laces and stop to check on me. How could they just keep stepping over me? Ouch!  That man just kicked me, I think he may have broken my heel.  I would have yelled louder if my tongue were not tied.

Oh, wait, someone is bending down to look at me!  But, she’s not my owner!  What are you doing with me? Stop! No! I don’t want to go in there!

Well, here I am, in the rubbish container.  Soon, the truck will come, and I will be smashed like the rest of the garbage. Trash, that’s what I am now.  What did I expect, to return home happily? No, that was not my luck. No one will remember me, because I am nothing more than a shoe, easily replaced, quickly forgotten.

“You know I will eat you,” mused the cat, “right?”

With a sigh, and a rolling of his eyes, the canary replied, “Yes, yes, you’ve been saying that for years.” The bird paused to adjust his wing feathers. “If you’re going to do it, I wish you’d hurry up and get it over with.

“The timing is just all wrong my feathered friend,” the cat explained, “you just don’t look, well, ripe to me yet.”

“Ripe?” the bird said, his feathers ruffling, “I’m nearly overdone, I’ve been standing on this perch since you were a fur ball playing with dust bunnies under the sofa!”

“And that was what, two, three years ago?” purred the cat as he stretched himself out across the arm of the chair.

“Well, I see time nearly crawls to a halt when all you do is sleep all day,” he said with a tweet, “it’s been nearly nine years!”

“Really,” he yawned, “how many more years do you have in you then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, one, maybe two,” the bird replied as one of his bright yellow feathers floated to the floor, “or maybe less.”

“Hmm…I see,” said the cat lazily, dozing off to yet another nap, “then perhaps tomorrow, for breakfast.  I will eat you then.”

We were forced to write poetry in one of my creative writing classes.  I couldn’t come up with anyone for this one particular assignment and this is what I ended up with. The professor loved it.

Words waltzed around in my mind

Twirling, swirling, dancing lightly

across the dance floor of my frontal lobe.

Masters of the mambo, wizards of the waltz.

My double left feet of poetry

unable to utilize any of it.

Watch it wander away

no verse gracing the page

suitable for submission.