New Art on Etsy

So, I just put some new paintings on Etsy. I hope I sell at least one. The money would go to help my poor cat. He needs a vet bad and I don't have any money until Wednesday. I hope he last that long.

The Gift

I came home from work yesterday and was met by Barney at the door. He gave me a sweet meow while looking up at me with those loving, adoring eyes. I went to step in and just barely avoided stepping on a dead mouse.

Now, I know all of you out there had the same reaction at this as my friends here..."oh, how sweet. He bought you a gift to show you how much he loves you."

Yeah, right. I think he just want the entertainment of watching mom shriek and do the EwwwDance. I swear I heard the sound of kitty laughter as he ran off.

Needless to say the removal of dead mouse fell to snickering male child while I left to go to Micky Ds for a latte to calm my nerves.

My Furry Sons are 14!

Today is my babies 14th birthday! That is 98 to us humans. They awfully old and not as limber and fast, but they still sweet and can get into things to irritate mom. They really aren't brothers.










I got Barnabas in NC from my uncle. He is so named because the little brat bit me when I reached to pick him up. I named him for Barnabas Collins from the Dark Shadows series (the old one). He's a grouchy old cat who demands the best right then. If he does not get it my art supplies are goners. Everything ends up in the floor and my canvas are used for scratching post. Good thing he's declawed.

Nikademos came from the Virginia side of Bristol. A lady I met in passing at a local restaurant said she had a black kitten she wanted to find a home for. I love black cats so I went to her house and fell in love with the little thing. He was the runt of the litter, nothing but ears and and a nose. He turned out to be the sweetest cat I had ever owned. He talks to me (he's very vocal), and purrs all the time, and wants to meet everyone who comes in my door. He was named for a character in a book I was reading at the time.

I only later realized that both names are also in the Bible.

A Spooky Story

BANG

Stacy groaned and flipped over to bury her head against Jim’s back.

BANG!

Jim grunted and pulled his pillow over his head.

BANG!

“Stacy, do something about that cat!” Jim’s muffled voice came. “I can’t sleep.”

Stacy laid there, reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed. Another bang of the door came. She turned over and sat up. She could see a small white paw under the door where it didn’t quite meet the floor. She could also see the glean of a green eye staring at her next to the paw. She got up to open the door and glare down at her tortoiseshell cat, Munchie. Glancing at the clock Stacy saw that it was 3:23 am.

“Can’t you wait for morning?”

Munchie turned and ran down the stairs to the kitchen door, her miffed owner behind her. Once the door was opened she sashayed over to her bowl to sit with a queenly dignity for her very early breakfast.

After ten minutes of dainty eating and a quick wash she led Stacy to the back door. Stacy opened the door and stared out at the heavy fog that obscured the night. Munchie started out, then sat down just inside the door, looking out.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You are not waking me up again to let you out.” Stacy put her foot under the cat’s rump and shoved her out the door. Munchie turned to hiss at her then raced across the deck into the fog. Stacy turned to make her way back to bed. As she got settled back against her husband’s back she heard a jingle coming from downstairs. She raised her head. There, she heard it again.

“What the…?”

“What is it?” Jim asked.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That jingling noise. It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen.”

He listened.

“Sounds like the bell on the cat’s collar. Big deal.”

“I put Munchie out.” Stacy got up to investigate the sound.

Back downstairs Stacy opened the kitchen door and flipped on the overhead light. There, in her bed next to the iron stove, laid Munchie. She opened one sleepy eye to glare at her in annoyance.

“If Munchie is in here,” Stacy moved to the door. “what did I kick out the door?”

Then it dawned on her. The whole previous episode was silent. Not once did the cat meow, purr, or make a sound with her collar bell.
　
　
　
　

Barney Is So Not A Happy Cat

A Word Picture

A hot wind moves across my skin, sweat trickles down my face and back,
dry grass crunches beneath my feet, a bee buzzes by.
Under the trees of my backyard woods, in the dark shade
yellow eyes watch me warily from a darker shadow
and blue eyes look up at me pleadingly from a little gray and tan face,
softly meowing for a pet. All around me my flowers droop, thirsty and dying roses, honeysuckles, and tigerlillies.
Is that thunder I faintly hear? Is that a dark cloud on the horizan?
Is rain finally coming? Please, God, say it is.

Poem-My Cat

My Cat

Can you imagine
such unconditional love
compacted into a warm furry form
a comforting purr
and a wet nose
lightly nuzzling my face
his whiskers tickling.