And herewith, Ladies and Gentlemen and Transitioning, we have the first proffering from the latest Bonnywood Manor Story-Prompt Extravaganza (details of which can be found here). In this outing, the lovely Melanie has chosen to pursue the “furry friends” option, and if you happen to be following both of our blogs and are aware of a mutual experience we shared recently, well, Melanie’s words are quite satisfying. Enjoy.
All Things Bright and Beautiful
The wondrous Brian has offered up some prompts for people to play with. His post actually says “ten opening lines amongst which to choose”, but his love of words overcame him, and as the post progressed, we got more than an opening line for some of the choices. My choice, for this post anyway (I’m going to do more than one of these over the next couple of weeks); was Number Nine. No love potions nor trains involved…no this is the tale of a kitty.
Backstory: Brian had two cats: Cleopatra (the subject of Number Nine) and her ‘brother’ Scotch. Scotch passed away last Fall/Winter, a few months before Hunydog did as well. I admit that the little prompt brought some sharp stinging sensations to the back of my eyes and damned if a little smoke didn’t get in them. This accounts for the alleged tears in my eyes. These little animals get into our hearts, nest there, and when they are gone again, they leave a hole. A hole not easily healed, even though others may come after, not to replace them, but to comfort the bereft human left behind. Human lives are too damned long. And anyway:
Cleopatra the Cat woke up from her seventh nap of the day, instantly aware that something was amiss. She slipped out of hiding place 47-C and trotted into the living room, deftly hopping onto the clever writing desk placed in front of the large, floor-to-ceiling window. (The daddies never used this desk, as it was “for show” or some such, and thus feline hopping was tolerated.)
From this vantage point, Cleo was able to survey both of her queendoms, inside and out, although, truth be told, the official map of the Outer Queendom was a bit murky. The daddies, in their inexplicable and short-sighted desire to tamper with Cleo’s matriarchal heritage, did not allow her to lead actual expeditions into The Land Beyond the Sliding Glass Door. Still and all, there would come a day when one and all bowed down to her supremacy over the dual lands.
Suddenly, there was an intruder in her midst, somehow slipping past security and appearing beside Cleo in the Royal Viewing Chamber. She turned to berate the interloper, but she changed her tune rather quickly as her eyes fell on a surprise. “Scotch?”
“But I thought you crossed the Rainbow Bridge?”
Scotch nodded. “Oh, I did do that. I didn’t want to, of course, but you know how it is in this dump. The daddies lie a lot about a lot of things. It was supposed to just be a vet visit, and next thing you know some gal in a white coat handed me a golden ticket to some place that doesn’t smell like here.”
Cleo eyed him suspiciously. “How did you get back? That Rainbow Bridge is a one-way road from what I’ve read on the Caternet.”
“See, that’s another lie the Two-Legs tell you. If you’re really good over there, they give you day passes to come back and visit.”
Cleo’s eyes remained narrow. “But you’ve never been a good kitty, so I’m not buying-”
Scotch sighed. “Okay, fine. I sort of stole it. You know, like you stole this desk that used to be my viewing box. Anyway, somebody’s going to figure out that I’m gone, so I need to hurry. I came here to tell you everything you need to know to keep the daddies in line so they don’t jack up your right to world domination.”
Cleo was affronted. “I already know everything I need to know.”
“Oh, girl, no you don’t. I thought I knew it all until my ticket got punched. Now, get out your Hello, Kitty laptop so you can take some notes.”
Cleo did so, her emerald eyes gleaming brightly. “I’m ready, Brother Cray-Cray.”
“Okay, there are 10 reasons why the Two-Legs lie. The first one involves…”
(this is the prompt portion, I suspect. I shared the rest because it’s worth reading as ((IMHO)) all Brian’s stuff is…and I love the circuitous route. Preferably liberally studded with words):
EIGHT TEN REASONS WHY THE TWO LEGS LIE.
The first one involves food. Two legs are greedy, if you hadn’t noticed. Of course, they hunt for the food and bring it home in vast quantities that we couldn’t, but still. They should NOT keep the lion’s share for themselves. All that begging from the canine side of things is so undignified.
Second. The two legs know that we wouldn’t stick around if they told us upfront what our co-habitation would entail. I mean all the damned RULES for a start. Who can and who wants to in the first place REMEMBER all that stuff? Don’t potty in the house for example. THEY do it. Of course, they have a special spot, but isn’t that what we try to pick? Our own special spot? All that flipping around and screaming, not to mention all those horribly smelly sprays designed to take away our own lovely scent? Geezus. Any sane pet would head for the freakin’ hills if they told us these things. So, they lie about it.
Next. Where we sleep. I’ve heard tell of some two legs who are generous and open to sleeping arrangements of all sorts. But that’s the exception. The majority herd a guy (or gal) to a pen or have some incredibly lonely bed thing designed for the pet. Don’t they know we are pack animals at heart? We love to sleep with our own kind?
Roaming. Cats and dogs (not to mention guinea pigs, hamsters, rats and all the rest including birds) are expected to stay within the boundaries of the two leg’s domicile. No wandering is encouraged and in some cases is strictly not allowed at all. Whu-WHAT? How can we be expected (or so the dogs asked have said) to guard the domicile if we can’t fore-see any unfamiliar visitations in the forecast? That whole casual approach to this issue is a BIG reason two legs lie. Cats don’t suffer as greatly I don’t think, because we really don’t give a sh*t who comes in as long as they’ve got food or are entertaining in some way.
Co-habitation with other species. This is a big lie in the fact that a pet may assume they are going to a ‘cat free or dog free (bird, hamster, pig free) zone. The two legs often have multiple species of ‘pet’ in their quarters. And despite what nature teaches about how different species might get along, they seem to expect us to ‘all just get along”. Even though the cat is usually responsible for most of the trouble. Or the dog. Depends on your specie identification response, doesn’t it?
The lie about the car ride (applies mainly to dogs because cats know about this and aren’t fooled by the alleged ‘innocent’ ride). A dog may be lulled into a false sense of bonhomie about riding in the car. Will waggle out, slobbering all over the two leg and wagging their tails until one would sensibly think the thing was going to fly right off the dog’s body. They drool and whine and paw at the glass in the car and stick their silly heads out and let their ears flap in the breeze. They bark at other dogs in cars. The lie part comes when the ride ends at the Place That Must Not Be Mentioned or (more commonly known as) the VET’s office.
The lie about the VET’S OFFICE. This one can trigger peeing and even shatting in sensitive animals, so those so burdened may leave before it’s explored. The vet’s office is a place where someone who smells of a LOT of other animals, tinged with the scent of terror and confusion, takes a dog or cat (or other animal) to a back room out of view of the main two leg. “Our” two leg always smells of fear and anxiety, which is why the first smelly two leg takes us away. When we’re back in this place with a lot of other animals, all in cages, and all making a horrific racket; a third two leg may come in and this one smells of bad smells…al-co-hol and medicine and death and pain. Bad juju. No wonder we fight to get away from this one. The third two leg may stick us with needles or do things to us after we get some strange smelling/tasting stuff that makes us sleep. Sometimes we wake up minus important dangly bits. Other times it’s not so bad because we’re minus teeth that hurt or other hurty stuff. No. The vet’s office lie might be okay, but not really.
Noise. The two legs are mean about this. Just because they don’t speak our language too. We’re usually only trying to warn them of impending doom in the form of people in uniforms or those invisible to two legs’ floaty things that only cats and dogs see; or danger because two legs, despite their keen hunting skills, are really stupid and don’t even have decent teeth or claws to defend themselves with. We’re trying to warn them but all we get is “BE QUIET!! or SHUT UP!! or STOP YAPPING OR YOWLING etc etc”. Sometimes we are assaulted with things that make noises that hurt our ears really badly (dogs say this anyway) or are banished to rooms without windows where we can’t see the danger that is imminent. The bonus side to the noise issue is that sometimes you can train your two leg to give you treats to make you stop making noise. But that’s rare.
Scotch yawns and said “I thought I could find TEN reasons, but well eight will have to do. Cats have more important things to do than instructing others on the fallacies and foibles of two leg behavior. THAT could take a month. Particularly if one is canine and not as sharp in the old brain pan as we felines are.” He stretches and …
*sounds of a scuffle* and some yowling and sharp yipping* Oh my! Is that a second wanderer from the Rainbow Bridge in the form of the aforementioned Hunydog? She’s brought reinforcements too…there’s Toro, Buddy, Gypsy (who is really scary looking to the cats in that she’s a BIG DOG), Sausha, Nikki Pee, Benihana, Muggins…good Lord. It seems all Ms. Melanie’s contingency of canines has come over to weigh in on and attend this discussion of two-legged behavior. Scotch prudently did a fade. Cleo was horrified and now needs to find more ethereal chairs….
Note: If you are interested in playing in our story-time sandbox here at Bonnywood, please feel free to do so, as there are no time limits or actually enforceable regulations. (Once again, the pertinent click.) Jump in, the water’s fine.
Story behind the photo: Another snap from our time last year at Hidden Valley Ranch in Pecos, New Mexico. Where does the quaint little lane go? That’s up to you…
Side note to Melanie: I still haven’t figured out how to use the colored text you used with such artistic precision in your original post. Perhaps someday I will gain this valuable skill, but it’s clearly not happening tonight. Mea culpa.
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