THE EBB AND THE FLOW OF LIFE

If any of you think my life is charmed let me clarify. Yeah sure, lately I purred in many scenic and inspiring places. I contemplated my life, the life of birds and bugs, sometimes I even consider others, but only when they pertain to me.

For example, in Evanston, Wyoming. I sat outside the Wizard of Winnebago at the Phillips RV Park and marveled at the varieties of birds and trees. I gazed at the yellow belly of a meadowlark, his song warbling in the Aspen above as he attempted to lure me from his nest I discovered in the tall grass. His musical voice fascinated me as I sniffed the clean fresh air. At times like these I meditate, really day dreaming defines my thought process better, but the point is, my imaginative juices flow. I think of being free, with no responsibilities, unleashed of the duties  that tie me to my work at the grooming shop such as, presenting my stuff to  customers, teasing the terriers, or arranging play dates with the puppies. On the road, megabytes are bugs toiling in a microscopic world of dirt and software is my bed that invites scents of mountains and forests to make my naps blissful. Yes, it seems my existence is charmed, I am living it by the luck of the draw, or shall I say the lucky like the day I was scooped up by the man who wore bright white Sketchers and smell of Tide and delivered me to The Canine Beauty Salon.

But I know nothing is by chance or the whim of the Gods. What I describe is a small part of my life. Ninety percent of my life and  ninety per cent of my personal assistant, Judy’s life, has been long hard hours of discipline and dedication.

As a cat I possess an innate sense of the ebb and flow of the universe when I observe my environment. Up high and unnoticed, over the years, I studied Judy’s business. The long hours we invested at the shop left little time for purring or cat napping. I oversaw the operations as Judy soothed the ruffled feathers of customers whether they be a canine or human.

Nothing comes easy. I struggled on the streets of Sun City before I came to Judy. I would  have been dissatisfied with the confines of this life if I had not experienced a life of hunger, thirst and loneliness. Likewise, Judy has met the challenges of her business with the grace and confidence of a champion. She’s Best of Show in this cat’s eyes. Now it is time to climb new trees, explore new hunting grounds and play. I want to assure Judy that she and I must go with the flow or we stagnate, our joints stiffen, preventing us from leaping to new heights.

CAT NAPS AND DREAMS

Judy left me to my own devices for the six days of the conference. Judy explained she would be leaving early and coming home late. “Would you work on your blog this week?” she asked. “And maybe work on the scene with you at the campground in Oklahoma?”

“Sure,” I answered. I want to carry my weight even if it is only ten pounds. Judy pointed out the followers swarming to our website since I began blogging two weeks ago. I know my body language screams don’t come near, but inside I’m just a pussy cat. Oprah and Dr. Phil explain my aloofness as a defense mechanism. Once I read your e-mails and blogs, I’ll roll over, expose my tummy and allow for our relationship to mature into belly scratches.

Judy told me about a cat on Twitter named Sockington who has over a million and a half followers. Boy! I’d like to meet him.

My intentions were good the first day. I went from window to window and gazed at the trees and studied the sea gulls that perched on the dumpster. My mind raced with story possibilities. It seemed like hours passed but it was only minutes. The fog had not lifted and the haze made my eyelids heavy. Maybe just a cat nap.  

I gave up the hunt for the perfect blog subject and dreamt of sea gulls swooping and diving above me. Their high pitched peeps answered my chirps and I marveled at their grace, like feathers floating on the horizon. The blue-green painting pounded out a washing machine rhythm that forced my little heart to beat in sync. The ferociousness of the waves was captured by the arc of the birds’ flight and evaporated, and my pulse flowed and ebbed with the surge of the water’s inhale and exhale.

When I awoke the rushing noise of the traffic had diminished and I heard Judy’s footfall in the gravel outside the RV’s door. I scrambled to be at the door waiting when she swung it open.

“Oh you are such a good cat, Sportster. I’ll bet you’ve been waiting by the door all day.” She plopped her bags on the chair and swept me up, burying her face into my fur. I liked it but twisted to be released and took my perch on the chair’s arm. I could see Judy was tired. She flitted around the space, getting coffee ready for morning, laying out her PJs and never noticed the pair of rolled up crew socks I deposited at her feet. This morning I had pressed the soft cotton ball between my paws with no thumbs and kicked it, sending the missile shooting into the air. Judy laughed, catching it and tossed it back over my head. I leaped up catching the imaginary robin with the grace of the dancers I’d watched in the Nutcracker Ballet.

But tonight she just stumbled over the toy and I waited until she collapsed on the couch to climb upon her lap. The rest of the days and nights were copy cats of the first.  At night before we dozed off, she filled me in on the authors and aspiring authors she had met, the agents she wooed and the workshop leaders she revered. I wished I could have gone with her. I am sure if I had attended, I too, would have been instilled with the energy and passion she exuded even in her exhaustion.

SANTA BARBARA SPORTSTER IMAGINES RETIREMENT

We are spending six quiet easy days here at the Elks Lodge in Goleta, California. I’m not disturbed by the occasional whistle of the Amtrak that roars past our campground. The sunny salty days are calming, peaceful, lulled by the rushing traffic on Highway 101.

I live for days like these and I know Judy does too. Although she still spends many hours at her computer, she takes breaks and we walk through the forested picnic area on the lodge grounds. I could do this forever.It is probably good that I cannot talk because we would get tangled in too many discourses about the quality of life.

I believe we should follow our nose. Even Judy’s rving friend, Vicki, who spent her life in the company of horses, quoted the philosophy of the steeplechaser:“Through your heart over the fence and the horse will follow.” Judy just finished  reading to me from the book titled, “The Art Of Racing In The Rain.” by Garth Stein. She read the lines in the book over and over, “That which you manifest is before you.” I would tell Judy that every day my thoughts are to be free and wild. If I am not actually experiencing the “ the wild,” I am manifesting our next adventure, except when I am sleeping in the safety of one of our two homes,  So, if I had the words, I would argue with Judy who, I know in her mind, has already thrown her heart over the fence. Her eyes are on retirement. Another quote from “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” “Your car goes where your eyes go.” Or in this case our motor home. 

But like the Enzo the dog who is now my hero, my tongue‘s function is limited to lapping water and combing my fur. So I watch Judy fight and kick the temptations of retirement like knotted bedcovers. The bedcovers are soft and warm, comforting but entangling. She retorts with, “How much is enough?” I can’t answer, but as Enzo related, "No race is ever won in the first corner..." 

WORKIN' AT THE DOG WASH BLUES

I spent my morning on Memorial Day as a lump in the bed. Judy told me she didn’t need my assistance until she’s had her coffee, checked e-mail, and went for her hike. She’s told me she would enjoy my company on her walks but I prefer a slower pace, investigating the smaller details - the scents, bugs, and lizards that she misses when she strives to get her heart beat up.

Her schedule was to write most of the day. We’re fine tuning our main character in our second book, Going Home With A Cat And A Ghost. Our fictional heroine, Judy Howard, who’s also my heroine in real life, has evolved into a strong character even though the nightmares of her past haunt her.Our heroine’s past molded her into the woman she is today.
I have learned this because I watch a lot of Oprah and Dr. Phil. When Judy tells me she plans to go out, leaving me home, I sit calmly on the kitchen table and stare expectantly. I don’t move, not even my tail. I hope this tactic influences her, but Judy will explain why I can’t go, “You’ll have to wait in the car and it's too hot” or, “We’ll be gone too long and places don’t have bathroom facilities for cats.” But she interprets my stare as longing and loneliness, so she turns on the television to keep me company.

At noon I crawled out from under the covers and padded in to the office. Judy did not look up but began chattering about the scene she had rewritten. Our main character was on her last day on the road, excited and anxious to explore new avenues – one new avenue actually, Brad. It sounded good and I was pleased we were progressing along in our story.

I finished out my week which was split between greeting customers at the grooming shop, sending Judy off to two critique groups, overseeing the packing for our trip to Santa Barbara Writers Conference, and listening to Judy rehearse for her workshop at the Grace Mellman Community Library.
Next week in Santa Barbara I'll report from my favorite home - the one on wheels. Keep on purrin'.

Krissie - Judy - Charlie at the Grace Mellman Community Library in Temecula, Ca.