A PERMANTENT VACATION?

I haven’t told anyone what’s bothering me, but today I decided to lay it all out in the sand. And then when it’s spread smoothly and exposed, I’ll cover it up. It will be gone - my secret that I have been holding in. I’ve told no one, not even Judy.

I’m afraid to tell, especially her. What if she doesn’t understand? What if she gets mad? What if she throws me out, or even worse, what if she finds me a new home? I'd rather live on the streets, like I did when I was a kitten than pretend to love someone else.

Judy has expectations of me that, up until now I have been happy, no, honored and proud to fulfill. Posing as the receptionist at the grooming shop wasn’t even a job. I reveled in making the customers smile, the golden retriever in the cage bark in excitement, and soothing Judy’s harried nerves when her schedule became hectic. The business has been my life. Summer mornings meant a leisurely ride to work in the golf cart, watching cars roar by as I sniffed the cool California air. And evenings at home we fell asleep together in the chair, exhausted from the day’s work. Judy would say, “Another day another dog,” then we would pad off to bed. I would curl up on the covers at the foot, on top in summer, under in winter.

So my secret? What am I hiding? Life has changed. I have changed. I want more. If Judy isn’t grooming, she is always at her desk. I lie nearby watching the mouse, wishing there was more, - wishing for the desert flora of Arizona, Mississippi mud to roll in, and mice in Maine in the spring.

This is my friend, Snowball, who lives with an author. The author,like most, has a day job too.Snowball warned me that this is what will become of me if I don't confront Judy and insist she slow down the pace and take a long, extended vacation. After seeing my friend, I am worried.

Judy is stressed by the fast pace of our lives. If she isn’t writing her next chapter, she is blogging about her next book signing, planning a new seminar, or researching for her next book. She spends little time in her recliner and less time in bed.

 

 

Yes my life has changed. I have itchy paws. Judy calls  it“itchy wheels” – the urge to travel. Before life became complicated with books and publishing and marketing, I eagerly filled Judy’s expectations of me as navigator on our trips across the country. Packed with adventure, my role challenged my cat tendencies to sleep all day. I became the big Tom, who roamed farther than any of my ancestors ever conceived. The part I played satisfied and nurtured my wild side.



 

I’m telling her my secret desire tomorrow. I want a vacation. No dog grooming. No book writing. Just the two of us. We need those special moments, listening to the crickets chirp and the woodpecker’s tap-tap. We need to hear the Rio Grande’s gurgle and see the full moon’s reflection on its waters. I want to meet the cats that hang out on the pier in Nova Scotia and prowl the Everglades.



I want a permanent vacation.

PICTURES OF SERENITY

Jojoba Hills SKP RV Resort. The beauty calms the soul and quiets the mind. I never tire of this place. Hiking trails, swimming in the pool, two hot tubs, sauna, shooting range, library, potlucks, barbques, and an ice cream social. We had it all this weekend. I watched the quail parade past our door and the lizards  bask on the rocks. I had time to contemplate my tail and dream of far off places.

 

 

I wondered about life and what was to come. Would it be tuna or salmon tonight?

I never pondered more than a few hours at a time, because, really, that is all any of us have. I point that out to Judy and entice her to look out the window, see what I see. 

The sound of the water  was as  musical as a waltz while the thunder and lightning the first day was exciting as stimulating as war drums.

 

 

 Judy told me about Jimmy Ortega and his "Listen Up Band."  They played easy listening music while she dined with fellow Escapee members at the pot luck on Friday night.If you need a band for your event, Judy got their email teleguitarman@peoplepc.com .
 .

 

The evenings were picturesque every night, the nights were flourecent from the full moon.

 

 

 

 

Exploring the campsite and lying in wait for the quail was one of my favorite things to do, but when Judy said, "We have to go home tomorrow.".......




 

NO!!!



 





VANITY AND VETERANS

What do you think about me now? I know how to give the right look, the right purr and the paparazzi go crazy over me. I know it is the younger, cute kitten side, but hey, if it sells books?

You can read the entire article on Judy's Blog.

Judy and I are in limbo. The manuscript has been sent off to the publishers at Createspace. They are editing the manuscript, designing the cover, and creating promotional text for GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST. The projection for publication is the end of October.

 INVISIBLE HEROES, book number three, involves a lot of interviews with veterans, dog trainers, as well as inmates who are also involved in the training of service dogs. If we get enough press about the book I might get lucky enough to meet Tuesday, Luis Carlos Montalvan’s service dog. Judy read Luis’s book, UNTIL TUESDAY, to me. It moved me and educated me and I am excited that Judy has become involved. As our men return from Iraq, more and more veterans are diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Check out Luis’ book at www.luiscarlosmontalvan.com You will not be sorry.

 

And if the opportunity to touch paws with Tuesday doesn’t manifest itself, perhaps I will rub fur with Dean Koontz’s golden retriever, Trixie, whom he acquired from Canine Companions for Independence. http://www.cci.org who have a local chapter in Oceanside, Ca.

Koontz’s book, A BIG LITTLE LIFE, is also an eye opener about service dogs. You can find Dean’s book at www.deankoontz.com ) who knows? Anything’s possible.

 

For now I lounge around a lot enjoying the lull. I sneak on the computer and prowl the Internet when Judy sleeps. She is so involved, I feel compelled to begin research for our trip to Florida in November. She freaks if I lay a paw on the keyboard, so I wait until the early morning hours.

 

During my research I began corresponding with Krishna the Cat. This poor cat from India has inherited a large sum of money but needs an American bank account number before he can get the money he needs so desperately. He says he’s been forced to sleep with fleas, and hide in alleys to avoid animal control. It sounds like he has a really miserable life. He sent this picture. He is on his last leg and if I don't help....well you can see he's in bad shape. He says he just can't go on.

 

 Stories like this make me glad I’m an American cat. I am thankful for the American soldiers who have given everything just for me to have the privilege to beg for treats, sleep in air conditioning, and be able to plan an consider an extended adventure sniffing and chasing bugs and birds all across this great country. God Bless our veterans.  I only hope the vision we have for our book INVISIBLE HEROES will become all we hope it to be.

 

We sent the manuscript off to the publisher today. I know I don't look excited , but inside I am. Now maybe we can have some fun. I heard Judy make reservations for camping, so I am even more excited. But first a nap.

I dreamed about my friend Tika. Her e-mails describe her adventures in Oregon and Washington where the air is cool but she rarely sees the sun. There is always the good and the bad, the ups and the downs, so as jealous as I am of Tika's adventures I know my time will come to experience the Oregon coastline and the forests of Washington.I heard Judy tell Tika's mom, "Next summer for sure. Well be there."

The real reason I want to visit with my friend is she told me about the new additions to their traveling entourage. 

Tweety Bird and Birdy Bird., a canary and a cockatiel. 

Boy! I can't wait to travel with them. I wonder if they like cats, because I like birds. I can  never get up close to them. They fly off. But Tika assures me they are right there, inside her motor home. "Mom doesn't let me chase them, but I can reach out and put my nose up to their house. Really! And you can too, Sportster. When you get here, you can come in and see them."

I can't wait to meet Birdy Bird and Tweety Bird. But for now I just have to wait while mom gets all the details taken care of with the publisher. We have to decide on the color of the paper in the book, the Font, and the cover. Oh I can't wait to see the cover!

Don't forget to click on the link below. Last week Judy was interviewed by the Press Enterprise. That's the newspaper that serves the Inland Empire here in Southern California. She is really excited about the press.
http://www.pe.com/local-news/riverside-county/menifee/menifee-headlines/20120820-menifee-author-turns-loss-rv-adventure-into-book.ece

I can't wait to tell you about our camping  trip.  A little down time in which Judy can scratch my belly and take me for walks. I'll make sure she takes lots of pictures.So until then, have a great week. don't forget to let me know what you think of the article in the newspaper.

SO MANY BOOKS!

I have so so much reading to catch up on. Besides Jeri Westerson's book, TROUBLED BONES,Troubled Bones I have S.Kay Murphy's newest release, THE DOGS WHO SAVED ME. (Kay is donating the proceeds of this book to the local animal shelters)

The Dogs Who Saved Me

 

And of course don't forget to watch our new book trailer for GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST

SPORTSTER GETS HIS WAY.

I did it! 

I purred and meowed. I rubbed and I cuddled.  

I'm in the book trailer!

THE BOOK IS FINISHED!

We wrote the last chapter, the last paragraph, the last line to GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST. We’re done! …if a book is ever – Done.

I am excited. Judy spent hours today showing me possible photos for the book cover. She admitted she never anticipated the job of publishing and marketing when she sat down to write those first words of her first book,COAST TO COAST WITH A CAT AND A GHOST. Since then we discovered that writing a “great American novel” is the easy part, the fun part. Judy laughed, “If I had only known.”

WE'RE  DONE!

When no one is around Judy complains a lot. I’ll bet you didn’t know that about her. I don’t think she’s really complaining, it’s her way of sorting out all the commitments she makes, the book signings, workshops, conferences, and panels. 

Me, I loved it when we went on the road with our book tour last summer. How many states did we cover? Let’s see, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming. We were in Idaho for thirty minutes, just passing through, then South Dakota, Colorado, and New Mexico. What a summer.

The first week at Ruby’s Campground in Bryce National Park, Utah, Judy flipped out when she looked up from her chaise lounge. She was resting after a horseback ride through the park. I remember she told me about the couple she’s met from Sherwood Forest. Really? I always thought that was a fictional place. Not so. I did not go with Judy on the horse adventure. I would not have gone even if she invited me. I’ll stick with keeping company with Shitzus, and Min Pins. (My friend Tika is a Min Pin- short for Miniature Pincher: a little dog with a big attitude - kinda like me.)

So that day I slept the hours away. The high altitude made me more laid back than usual. When Judy returned, I smelled the scents she brought home and I have to say, they made me shiver and my hair spike on my spine. The odors of the strange creatures that had rubbed onto Judy took me back to Tombstone, Arizona. Do you remember the scene in our first book, COAST TO COAST WITH A CAT AND A GHOST? (The cat is me.) Page 29 in the second edition, check it out. I’ll never forget those horses pulling the stagecoach.

After sniffing every inch of her clothing, I proceeded to tell Judy I missed her. Since I am without words I use action. (You do the same with writing, don’t tell, show.) I rubbed against her and followed her from the couch, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, the bathroom and back again to the living room...all not even a hop, skip and a jump. In a motor home its only one jump from place to place.

Judy collected her brochures and coffee and we went outside to relax in the pine scented air. I get excited when its my turn to do the tourist thing. After a few sniffs here and there, I plopped down and rolled on my back, on my side, my other side, feeling totally in touch with nature.

. “SPORTSTER!” I was jarred from my ecstasy.

Judy grabbed me so quickly I didn’t know what was happening

.

“What have you done? Just look at yourself.”  

Before I could twist or turn in protest, she whisked me to the bathroom, past the full length mirror on the closet door.

I didn’t recognize the reflection. 

The cat I usually saw in the glass was quite a handsome cat. A beautiful white strip between his eyes leads to his pink nose that is also a furry pure white. His left leg, the color of cotton does not match his right which is grey with black rings of fur. Observing this cat in the mirror, I was alarmed. It was not the same cat. There had never been another cat in our home, except the prideful one I mentioned.  I tolerated that cat since he seemed to know his place. He never ventured further than the closet door.

THE PRIDEFUL CAT IN THE MIRROR

This cat was red, dirty red – the same color as the ground with which I had just communed. He must have been a stray. Believe me my heart goes out to the homeless, but still. The glimpse of this poor creature was just a split second  before Judy threw me in the shower and began to hose me down. “What?” How am I supposed to commune with nature when I smell like lavender? “Hey!” I yelled louder. It was obvious Judy didn’t understand. These are the times I long to be articulate.

It seems I digressed. I never saw that cat again. I hope he found a nice, loving home despite his disarray. But what I started to say is I love going on the book tours in the motor home. Judy loves it too. I hope now we get to do another with this book, GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST. I love my public.

GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST
BOOK TRAILER

MEAGAN AND ME

My week settled into one of routine. My mornings passed as Judy’s words clicked-clicked onto the screen. I watched the cursor’s flash for a while but it doesn’t hold my attention like it did when I was young. 

Most afternoons were spent at the grooming shop. It’s summertime and with the mercury rising into the nineties, we are very busy. Customers - dogs, cats, and humans alike, are desperate for relief. I took my perch from above and observed as the reception area filled with nervous noses, worried tails wagging, and carriers filled with menacing meows or pitiful cries. Barking echoes from the holding area in the back echoed with cries of”Mommy come back!” or “Hey, let’s play.” 

 I focused on Judy as she talked to a customer holding a small dog.

“Meagan is miserable in this heat.” Meagan gazed up at me and smiled, but I wasn’t fooled. I knew Judy wasn’t either.

“Meagan has to be shaved. She's very matted.” Judy explained, her pen poised over the new customer form.

“Oh she hates to be brushed. She’s afraid of it and runs under the bed. You know she’s a rescue. I am sure she was abused.” Meagan looked up again grinning wider. I could see her tail whipping high, back and forth behind the woman’s arm. It's not a good sign when the dog carries its tail so high. I knew it, Judy did too, but couldn’t see its movement. I held my breath, my own tail twitched as Judy’s hand reached out to touch the small ball of cotton.

In an instant, Meagan’s smile contorted into the face of hundred pound Rottweiler ready to attack. She lurched for Judy’s hand but years of experience had honed mom’s reflexes and she jerked back.

“Oh she won’t bite. She just doesn’t like to be touched. Here, let me put her down” Meagan was laughing out loud now, as she bounced around the reception area, sniffing butts and noses. She squatted by the potted plant. I hate when they do that. Don’t they know what a litter box is?

 I have met only one dog in my life who not only knows how to use one, but uses it on command. My mom’s good friend has a Shitzu named Coral, who is  half my size. We played hide and seek in their big motor home. I hid, Coral did the seeking. She was fun.

I turned my attention back to Judy and the woman.

“What do you mean, you can’t do her? Look at her. She has to be done.” I looked up to the ceiling. I've heard this so many times before.

“I can’t do her if I can’t touch her. She tried to bite me.” Judy replaced the new customer form back on the stack.

“I told you she doesn’t bite. She’s just scared.” I jumped down from my position as the woman was scooping up her little  mean Meagan. I walked up to the little dog with my tail straight up and looked her in her black eyes.

Meagan backed away. I could smell her fear. “Don’t come back.” I warned, then turned my back and dared her to chase me. She leaped into her mom’s arms and began shivering.

The woman coddled the trembling Maltese."Oh dear, she's never seen a cat before." 

Another exciting day at the grooming shop. My work done, I found my drawer, curled up inside and slept until five.

CHARLIE SHEEN AND ME

I worked my cat brain muscles long and hard yesterday helping Judy design her book trailer. I was put out because there was no footage of me.  We argued and because I don’t have speech capabilities I used my irresistible antics. I purred and stared. 

I was unable to convince her of my acting abilities. I told her if not me, many of my followers showed interest. "How about one of them?"  She agreed. I would check out their talents.

First,Jennifer took me aside and tried to work her charms. "I'll do anything to be in the video," she purred. I tried to explain it wasn't that kind of video.
Next - I call her Blondie -  but her public knows her as Meowing Marilyn, showed me her act. Not shabby. She was really quite good. Her moves flowed with a passion I don’t often see  here in Sun City. But she too, I had to disappoint, “It’s not that kind of video."

My buddy J. Beaver thought he had the perfect lyrics for the music track. I didn’t tell him he sounded like Jennifer on the fence at midnight before the vet took care of her affliction. 

The only one I seriously considered for the gig was my dear friend, Sheen, He has done some fantastic videos for Fancy Feast during his career, but fame made him think he was  invincible like a tiger. When I heard he was in Palm Springs for a shoot a couple of weeks ago, I asked Judy to drive me to his hotel. I promised Judy that with Charlie - he likes to be called that by his friends – he could really put our video over the top. When we arrived at the hotel, it was clear my friend Charlie hadn’t cleaned up his act. He had caroused all night, incapable of an audition. 

Last week we stopped by his condo in LA hoping we had just caught him at a bad time in Palm Springs. It was a sad sight. Fame can be so destructive.

Finally, Judy and I finished the video. I didn't get a part nor did Charlie or any of my friends, but the video is great. Judy was so excited about the book, she agreed to invite Charlie, J. Beaver, Madonna,  and Marilyn for the screening.Jennifer had moved on.
Judy announced, "GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST is so close to being done, I don't know who is more excited, Sportster and me or our readers.  Here it is. Roll it, boys."

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.”  

GOD BLESS THE USA

Jojoba Hills SKP RV Park is one of my favorite places. I purr and meow, rub and roll, when Judy announces we are coming here. No matter where we stay in the park, the scents in the air vary from sage and cacti to rabbits and quail. Summer or winter, the breeze blows gently down from Mt. Palomar.

I have been here since Friday and am sorry to say we disconnect our electrical cord tomorrow, the Fourth of July. We spent most of the days writing, editing, rewriting and then repeating the process over and over again. Afternoons I retired to my bed while the words and phrases danced in my head until Judy returned from the pool, or happy hour, or dinner out with friends. Evenings and mornings are the best parts of my days because Judy is not distracted with the myriad of duties with which humans feel compelled to fill their life.

I have tried to teach Judy the simplicities of life, that the universe has its own clock and  ticks to its own schedule. I am in tune with its pulse. You will never see me pacing over what the future has in store. My future is this moment, as I study a bird on the fence. My attention may stretch into the next five minutes but only until it takes flight. Then my feathered friend becomes part of yesterday and I am blessed with the ability to forget.  I believe Judy is catching on as she joins me to examine a bug's journey in the dirt.

But tomorrow belongs to Judy and she has explained that those complexities I mentioned have to be dealt with if I want to continue my lifestyle. She reminded me that not all cats live in the moment and are able to leave yesterday behind them, pointing out the commercials on TV for the SPCA. Her poignant comment caused me to cease my complaints as quickly as if she’d used the squirt bottle.

So I padded down a different track as I pondered the Fourth of July and its significance. Judy told me it had been Jack’s birthday. I didn’t know Jack when he lived but from all Judy told me I believed it was his hand guiding me as a kitten when I struggled on the streets of Sun City looking for morsels of food. When I was weak with hunger and thirst, an apparition floated in and out of my consciousness, whispering in my ear. I have seen pictures of Jack. The ghost in my dreams wore the same Harley hat and shirt. Judy told me the Buddhists believe an animal born after the death of a loved can possess a piece of the loved one’s soul. I don’t know if Judy agrees but she thinks it surreal that her birthday and mine are the same.

The Fourth of July means freedom. I wonder how many other countries a cat is allowed to travel across the land without a passport. I have rolled in the red dirt in Bryce National Park and driven past Elvis’s Graceland. Although I consider water only a means to satisfy my thirst, I trembled at the sight of Niagara Falls. The images of Ground Zero, The Pentagon Memorial, and The Flight 93 Memorial live in my mind and I will always wonder about the spirits of my animal friends born after 911 .My freedom permits me to sleep anywhere, in either of my two homes. The Fourth of July represents these privileges and I don’t want them taken from me.

I have met cats at the shop who lost these opportunities because they hissed and growled and refused to conduct themselves as respectable cats. They’ve never ventured out of Sun City. I’ll try not to meow when Judy works too long and I will with hold my urge to squeeze past the fireplace screen to gain immediate attention when I feel I’m ignored. Freedom is a privilege I don’t want taken from me. When I look in the mirror I am proud of who I am and I am grateful. God Bless the USA.

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.