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.

LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

For starters, let me introduce myself to those of you who have not had the privilege to meet me in Judy’s book, COAT TO COAST WITH A CAT AND A GHOST. I am a domestic short haired cat but some say I might have Bengal genes in my blood. As in the world of humans, we felines like to brag about our ancestry too, and I tend to sit a little taller when Judy discusses the possibility of my wild heritage.

I am a prosperous cat, able to afford two homes. One home, although it is stationary, I would not identify as my main residence, because I also spend large blocks of time in our second home that moves which Judy calls The Wizard of Winnebago. Photos of Judy, me and The Wizard can be found on the back cover her first book.

Since Judy’s time has become limited, she has allowed me to write this blog so we can keep in touch with our readers. I am always eager to help out when I can. And I am excited too, because I will be able to communicate with my fans. I do have a large following that is growing daily.

I got my start with Judy at her pet grooming salon, The Canine Beauty Salon. My mother had disappeared one day when I wandered too far from her side. I roamed the hot sidewalks of Sun City for several days looking for her, always hiding from everything that moved. I guess I must have just got dizzy from thirst and hunger making it easy for the man to sweep me up and take me to Judy. He had wanted to take me to jail, but Judy relieved him of the task assuring him she would find me a good home. All I remember from those first days was that the water was sweet and cold and I gobbled food until my belly ached. At first all I did was roll on the floor in piles of hair and chase tuffs of fur floating in the breeze. It didn’t take long to realize I could upgrade my toys to the hairy customers that Judy tended to on her table. Soon Judy began arranging playtime with select customers that I trained in “Kitten Play – 101.”

Judy was my first pick from all the people who came and went at the grooming shop. But I learned quickly how to work the flux of people with their pets. When I tired from play and the constant doting of the patrons, I collapsed onto a pile of colorful bows Judy kept in a drawer.

That is how I started out. But look at me now. I am older and my responsibilities are endless. I still assist Judy at the grooming shop, but my job of equal importance is co-author. I give technical and emotional support to Judy for her second book, GOING HOME WITH A CAT AND A GHOST. Yes I am in the second one too. We are spending most of our summer in our stick house as we wrap up the story and publish it.

But we have one more trip to do. We will be attending the Santa Barbara Writers Conference. Judy will spend most of her time networking and honing her craft for six days straight, and although I am not allowed to attend these kinds of functions, Judy always fills me in when she gets home. One reason I love Judy so much is that she includes me in everything. She turned down the room at the Hyatt and chose to stay in The Wizard, so we could at least have our evenings together.

I hope you visit often and drop words of encouragement.

It has been nice meeting you.

Sportster the cat.