OH NO! BATH TIME!

Oh my Gosh! The paparazzi are everywhere! I hope this doesn’t go viral. Judy will be so upset. I don’t want to ruin her clean, down-home image. I told her I didn’t want a bath. As soon as she woke me from my afternoon siesta and started taking off my clothes, I knew what she had in mind for me. She sneaked up and startled me. I didn’t have a chance to collect my thoughts…or hide.

 I don’t like to mention Judy’s dark side. She claims she hates to torture me, but yet she can’t restrain herself either. From the first day I arrived at the grooming shop, she swept me up and threw me in the tub. That first day I’ll admit I was secretly grateful. I had bugs crawling in the forest of my fur and the bath put an end to their creepy existence. After the experience was behind me, I felt wonderful, warm, and clean - and so loved. Judy saw to all my needs and we connected that very day. I knew she was the one for me. 

 But Judy wasn’t sure of our relationship. I overheard her telling someone she didn’t like cats. What! Of course, she hadn’t got to know me. It didn’t take long to convince her of my delightful and charming character. I batted dog bows to the floor and made myself available to the nervous dogs, rubbing up against them and purring. I weighed only a few pounds back then and I took my naps curled up in a small basket of colorful bows. At home I made sure my naps occurred in her lap after we watched movies together.

But my final audition I passed with flying colors - Harley colors. It was the “Designer Clothes for the Cat Test.”  When I aced that, I was in. Judy was hooked like cat claws in a curtain.

And I dream of catnip castles and lizards in the sun.

I tolerate Judy’s dark side. I’ve never drowned and I always succeed in working the situation for extra attention and treats. And, what can I say? I feel good when the day is over and I smell of lavender. My fur is soft, fluffy and Judy rubs my belly singing, “Soft kitty warm kitty. Little ball of fur, kitty. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty. Purr. Purr. Purr.”  

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..."