Mama Cat

It is hard to believe about me.

I used to hate cats.

I went to a slumber party in high school and this teacher has this gigantic siamese cat who stalked me and another gal. We slept in another room. We spent a fair amount of time talking about how evil cats seemed.

Then my junior year in college, there was this pregnant black cat. Slinking around the trailer park where I lived.

I made a tuna casserole one day. It was gross. I tried to doctor the bad taste by adding peas, I don't know what all I added until I, my roommate, her boyfriend pronounced it totally unfit to eat.
I saw the starving black cat. I put the casserole out for her.

As hungry as she was. She sniffed and took a pass.

Constantly the moocher, later that night she was a pest at a neighbors hibachi.

I told my dad about the hibachi and the cat. He said, they should cut her off a piece.

Somehow that translated, I should buy the cat some food.

I was prepared to leave the last day that rent was paid. My mother came in the 63 chevrolet impala because it could hold all my stuff.

My suitcase was packed and open. The door was open. I came back into the room and mama cat had put her three kittens in it. Then she laid down and looked at me like a cat would.

When my mother saw her and the kittens, the we don’t need any more animals speech did not happen. Kittens were packed in a pasteboard box. Mama Cat road in my lap.

We gave away two of her kittens. The beautiful tabby grew into an eccentric that only liked blondes. My small sister was his true love.

Mama cat had a broken motor which purred in fits and starts but never continuously. She had one more litter of kittens before she was spayed.

 I've owned a cat since. 

All over but the shoutin'

.

Everyone knew, except me. Everyone thought.

I knew. I have known. I have known a long time. 

She wasn't the first.

She was a little younger and prettier than the ones who came before.

Really chatty. She would drive up in the driveway to pick him up. Her head just a bobbin'.

I gave Eric one of those dogs with a bobbing head. He looked at me like I had lost my mind. Why would he want a cheap thing like that.

I said for your car. In my mind a reminder of your tramp.

I saw it in her car as they pulled out a few days later.

He tried to hide his dalliances in the beginning. Then he got lazy or stopped caring.  We had an understanding or truce.  

Now why would a self respecting woman stay married to a man like this. At first, I thought I could change him. Later, I had years of disgust and four small children under the age of eight. 

I could have gone to work. Sure, but my children needed attention. I wanted to raise my own children not have them in daycare for most of the day. He was a good father and provider.  By the time the youngest entered school. I was no longer angry. The partnership had begun.

I also thought about my oath before God when we married. I wasn't a Catholic. I remember the foreign religious relics when I converted. I was always moved with the image of Mary and child. There was a marble statue in the church where we married.

I remember being so nervous at 20 talking to the priest. He wasn't like those in the movies who always knew the right answers. He transferred to another parish long ago. I, the nominal christian, raised my children to be good Catholics.

Eric has discussed divorce.  He wants to marry this woman. I feel like running out to the car and telling her, All that glitters is not gold you home wrecker.

I am angry. I am 48. The youngest goes to college this year. What will I do with myself?

My friend Marci says, "Every cloud has a silver lining."

Why did I have to see that?

Buttons had to make the dog bed more comfortable.

I had three dogs in my car while I put fence posts up today. As a treat, I took them into town to gas up my car and purchase each of them a McDouble. Loretta did well waiting in the car and she held her anxiety down. One dog was my old man Frank. Muffin and Loretta don't get as much special treatment being the middle children. lol

As I motor up the road, I see a starving dog. I immediately turn around. The dog is still looking at me. I have dog food at home. I note where the dog is and go get the dog food. Turnaround is no more than 5 minutes.

I can't see the dog. I drive very slowly and I see a dog lying in the grass. I get out with the dog food. At first I think the dog is the dogs littermate. The stomach is distended. I walk about a third of a mile up the road in both directions. I come back and note the dog is who I saw.

I guess the dog died after I passed. It's eyes were pleading. With dogs in my car, I didn't dare pick it up. I was going to feed the dog. Take it to the vet. I adopt a dog and give it away about once a year.

Highway 96 is the highway of dead dogs. People dump dogs out on it all the time. They are usually hit within hours or an hour.

I love all animals. I just have a special place in my heart for domesticated animals. They love you back so much.

Since the dog was so close to death, it is just as well. I would have liked to let it pass with a kind word. Dogs love a human without judgement.

In the evolution of humans its theorized our species did not die out because of its alliance with the dog.

Speak Up Will You!

The bottle was almost empty. It was time to tell her. I would be drunk if I drank too many beers. Hey I didn't even like beer. 

You should tell your friend what they need to hear. The problem is, I can't stand to tell someone something that will hurt their feelings. I work in real estate. It is crushing to meet with people whose loan does not get approved and they are so nice. 

I got a backyard full of dogs. I go to a foreclosed home, sometimes there is a scared dog somehow still alive. As soon as I get a key, I go now. My assistant thinks we rush because all that animal waste damages the home. Well let me tell you, a home in foreclosure usually has problems.

"Marci, why isn't my house selling?"

I pretend to be interested in the musician playing the acoustic guitar. Time to "man up". I always think with a sneer. You know how you have a thought you think real hard and that actor's face takes over and says something else. Why can't it be "woman up"? 

"Janet, you may have a problem with staging."

"My house is clean. I packed clothes and knic knaks and put them in storage. We repainted the front door and put in a new mailbox. I weeded that darn flower bed next to the mailbox just before I came here."

"The house looks wonderful. Lots of curb appeal, you know from the inconvenience of having to leave we show your house several times a week."

"It's all the foreclosures isn't it. Are we asking too much money?"

"No you're good. I wish everyone was as practical in setting a selling price."

"Then what is it. The house has been on the market for six months. You know I can get another agent. You're my friend. That's why we chose you. Maybe we should have been more businesslike and chose someone with a better sale's record."

"If you think someone can get your house sold better, I will let you out of the contract now. I appreciate your business. I really do. But you do have a big staging problem."

"Let's see, you say the house has curb appeal, the price is right. Then tell me, what is this so-called problem." 

"Don't get nasty with me. Other real estate agents would ask you to do crazy repairs and change the locks to get a buyer. I don't ask you to do crazy repairs or repaint your house in colors just in case a buyer might like that."

"What's wrong with my home's decor?"

"You're soon to be former home. There is a reason why you're selling."

"Beaches and bubblegum, what is the problem? Give me a good reason my house has a staging problem. Quit pulling me along. I can't take it. I told you I can't take it."

My face feels hot. People from other tables are looking at us. "Janet, we are making a scene. Let's go."

"I'll go. I'll go. But not until you tell me. Now tell me right now." The air resonates with a loud taps from her small fisted left hand hitting the table with a large butter knife.

An older man with a balding head interjects. "Yes, tell her. It's only fair."

With an audience, it starts deep in my throat and comes out flat and monotone. "Odor"

"What did you say? I didn't understand."

"Your house stinks. You and your husband chain smoke  It's obvious the cat has urinated somewhere, dogs have their own smell. The odor has sunk into the carpets. ---    Drapes. -----     Walls. ------       You got a problem Janet. Either you and Leon stop smoking or vacate with the cat and dogs. Replace the carpets. I have never known the odor to be steam cleaned out."

"I see." She sits down with her purse held tightly in her lap. She fumbles with her cigaret pouch

The balding man looks content. 

The waitress comes by. "Would you like dessert?"

"Why not. Janet, dessert?"


speakeasy writing challenge 97

Southern Gothic Stories

I don't really like the grotesque Southern Gothic that takes popular culture by storm. Not that I don't like eclectic writers like Kurt Vonnegut and Flannery O'Conner. What I like about them is there is truth to their story telling. I didn't get Flannery O'Connor  for a long time and I studied her work until I did. Too many people I respected liked her work. It was worth the effort.

I'm not the religious sort. God believes in me more than I do in him. This is a healthy relationship in my opinion. I have met writers talking about angels on high and God's truth revelating through this world of sinners in a cataclysmic trumpet call and flashing of lights. Which makes me think, are you living a life or dreaming about whats to come.

God is more simple for me. I feel his presence like the hymn words "He walks with me, he talks with me." I never feel abandoned in my faith. Even when I have had trouble believing, he was there patient in my corner.

I don't think God is there to protect from every ill. I even think death is a part of life which I am not in a hurry to get to. On facebook, a childhood friend keeps everyone updated on the health trials of a gospel singer she is a fan of. He is in pretty bad shape.

The wife of this singer compares his illness to a great fight between Jesus and Satan. I can understand her desperation to keep the one she loves. In the bible it says all of our deaths are made by appointment. I wonder if she is prepared to care for a body with no mind.

That last part seems pretty cold. You might remember the hysteria of Terry Schiavo who was brain dead and the big fight between the husband and family to take her off life support.

I sat in a meeting of mothers and fathers of adult children with developmental disabilities and a lawyer who was discussing trusts and the best ways to leave care for their children behind when they pass. This is Georgia so it was a conservative audience. He talked about Terry Schiavo during the height of the hysteria and not one parent reacted. They all understood brain death.

My great aunt would constantly talk about what a horrible husband Terry Schiavo had. She had a brother-in-law who has a brain tumor which is probably the cause of his dementia. She is angry they will not operate. She is angry at a local hospital because her sister died about two months after having her hip broken at 84.

I am 40 years younger than my aunt. At 56, I already know I am lucky to be alive. As you get older, health issues are a reality.

This blog was to talk about magical realism but I did not get near that. However, for the non-religious, I got there. Have a good day today and enjoy the present.

Jealousy and Sympathy

I worked for a boss who was difficult. He felt like he should be able to hire the entire faculty and all of us should just leave so he could do so. He systematically worked on different people and some did transfer. My time came about three years after he came.

One woman was attractive and was his new right hand person. I'll call her Miss Perfect. That year she could be so obnoxious putting my stupid butt in place. I thought about leaving but hey I needed the job. Wherever you go you can have problems.

sorghum field

I have to be honest, there was a parent who wanted my head on a platter the year they worked on me. They wrote letters which were never shared with me.

One time I sat until 5 PM for a conference with the vice principal over a letter. They were tired and so we would have to do that the next day. The lawyer I consulted told me until they put anything in writing, they were barking at me.

I could be stupid in many ways. I didn't fight back because I was on the losing end. I took the high road. I returned the next year because I recognized that I needed to do it for my own benefit. I shouldn't have to leave with my tail between my legs.

When It blew over, the comment was made that I had done a good job teaching.

Miss Perfect had the tables turned when a new principal came. All the humiliating talk was directed at her. Her biggest weakness was that she did not have to change with the times.

She was used to being backed up when she had conflicts with students and parents. The norm is that teachers are on their own. Part of the job is dealing with people whether they are fair or not. The customer is always right is part of teaching.

Miss Perfect has always been a good teacher.

The humiliation got so great that another teacher who had been treated badly by her in the past felt compassion for her and helped her. I had moved on to another school. I don't know if I could have done it.

I think about this when I see lists on the internet of the ugliest celebrities and plastic surgery mistakes. Somewhere, people have forgotten that we lose our looks as we age.

Actors try to keep a youthful look. They get plastic surgery to correct perceived flaws in their appearance and they may or may not age well because of work done in their twenties and thirties. Have you noticed so many have the same nose.

Frankly, we just aren't that pretty as we get older. Some gals keep that youthful figure but the face doesn't stay youthful. The thinner they are, the deeper those deep skin folds can be.

I had never been incredibly beautiful like many actors. Much like, I had never been favored like Miss Perfect. Life happens to us all.

Macon Film Festival - Day 3

I didn't get to go Friday. I was just pooped when the opportunity to scoot out came. I justified it with being able to get up early and go today.

I did get up early. But, and but ----- I had a few basic chores that needed to happen. I am far from getting my house to where it should be. I got behind when I worked. I've never gotten caught up but I am moving towards that goal. With the addition of four chihuahua mixes, I am crazy busy cleaning up after errant unhousebroken dogs. I'm getting them closer too.

In short, I got there about 2:30 pm. I went to an grouping of comedy shorts at the Douglas Theatre. Of all the theatres that have been redone in Macon, it truly is beautiful. The others are cool. But the Douglas stands out as beautiful.

I gamble with the shorts in that I am not stuck with an hour or two feature that stinks. I came in at the end of a two hour movie. I could tell by the audience reactions that I missed a great movie. I stated it looked like a good movie and the woman in the back road had to tell me how great it was. I looked at my program. It was the last showing.

My luck went a little worse. When I checked on my two dogs in the car, Louise was anxious which was not like her. I walked her and Frank. Took them to Burger Kind and got them some chicken nuggets which made her feel better. Frank is so old, he doesn't quite know whats going on. Except, he wants to walk, he can urinate and poop anywhere available, and will eat most anything offered. Louise is timid urinating anywhere which makes her car trips a problems. Why am I hauling her with me? The horse farm next door have complained about her. I'm making sure she doesn't make it over there. Plenty of drama with dogs at my house.

I made it to the foreign shorts. Two of the movies did not play. They were on a format which they could not show at MAGA. The five that we watched were excellent.

I checked on Louise. She was still anxious. I decided to call it a night and maybe. Just maybe, I can make a day of it tomorrow.