Izzie – It’s Mine Now!

The Viking is always getting visitors.  They drop shit off and pick shit up and they all make me happy when they leave.  I don’t like people invading my yard any more than I like other cats invading my yard but if they really feel the need to stop by the least they can do is leave their truck door open, or a window at a bare minimum.  I’m short, you know, and getting into your vehicle isn’t always easy.

I bring this up now because I found the perfect Izzie-mobile.  Lucky for me, the guy I am stealing it from spent a good amount of time talking with The Viking so I could do a long and thorough inspection.  That’s the most important thing about getting a new vehicle – check it over carefully.

I like the color.  It’s not pink but it’s attractive nonetheless.

That seat belt is a little high.

It has a rack to carry my litter box and cat tree – unlike that monstrosity The Viking drives.

Lots of leg room for my people.

Plenty of cargo space for my toys and food.

The side mirrors are in good order – I just need to reset them for my height.

Methinks I’m going to need a Booster Seat.

Hey!  You!  Hand over the keys so I can take it out for a test drive.

And then, in what I can only call a complete breakdown in communication, the guy takes the truck away!!  What the hell were you thinking, Viking?!  I wanted it and you just let him drive it away?

I was just getting over your betrayal with the neighbor’s cat and then you pull this shit?!  How hard could it be to just put the guy on a bus?

What?!  I’m not allowed to have a truck now?  Is that what you’re saying to me?

Where’s Mom?!  She’ll let me have a truck.  Just you wait and see!

I put up with a lot of crap around here.  Mim brings her damn cats here all the time and you won’t leave the water running so I can drink when I want and Teddy eats my food.  You even tried to make me wear a sweater!  I don’t do sweaters!

Look at me when I’m giving you the Stink Eye!  If I had poo right now I would fling it at you.

Someone had better get that Treat Jug out.

I don’t know why I even put up with you.  There seems to be no end to the atrocities.  I’m calling PETA!  Black Lives Matter, you know!

You think I’m going to ‘sit pretty’ anymore?  I don’t bloody think so!  I’m going for a nap and there had better be zero noise!  You hear me?  ZERO!


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Friday Fictioneers – Weren’t You Listening?

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  I can’t always add to the group but I do when I have the time.  The same goes for reading all the other great offerings – it takes a long time to get through them all.  If I miss you one week I try to catch you the next.  My apologies if I miss you more often.  I’m reading as fast as I can and my other jobs won’t always wait.

This week’s photo prompt has been supplied by Sarah Potter.


“I’m home, Babe!  Mom says hello!”

“I’m in the spare room!” He called back

The stairs creaked as she went up.  The hallway was dark but the spare room spilled more light than usual.

What the hell?!

He was caked in white powder; hair, face, clothes, shoes.  Drywall dust, obviously, because the next surprise was a transformed spare room.

The ugly green wallpaper had been replaced with delicate pink walls and white trim; crib, rocking chair, change table.

She caressed her belly and smiled gently.  “But it’s going to be a boy.  Weren’t you listening?”

“Wait! What?!  Ah, shit!!

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Izzie – Hell In A Hand Basket

Well, shit just went right off the rails and I’m not happy about it!  A cat’s house is supposed to be her castle.  Everyone knows you don’t just let any Tom, Dick or Harry into the castle.  Just ask Rapunzel.  That’s a universal law, isn’t it?  As a matter of fact, I think the 10 Commandments covered this situation – ‘Thou shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Cat’.

And what did I find when I came home after my morning tour of the Neighborhood?  A cat!  Even worse – The Viking petting the cat!!  Not cool, man!

And then Teddy showed up and he was like “Hey!  A cat!  What does his ass smell like?”

Am I in Bizzaro World?  Has everyone lost their damned minds?  We don’t need anymore cats!  I am more than enough for any one household.  Don’t I give you enough loves?  Don’t I sleep in bed with you?  Don’t I eat enough?

Of course I’m enough for you.  I accepted Teddy – reluctantly, yes – but I draw the line at any more cats.  This is my claw-mark in the sand!

If you prick us, do we not bleed?  If you tickle us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die?  And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

I cursed Teddy for the Traitor he is.  Instead of standing in solidarity with me, he watched the One Cat Show.  It was pathetic, really.  It rolled around and around on the cement like a man-hussy!  No one needs to see such a ridiculous display to get more attention.  I levelled a couple of insults in his direction but he’s as receptive as Teddy to sarcasm, which is to say I’m wasting my talents on them.

It turns out that this interloper is called Charlie; The Viking checked the tag on his collar.

At one point he even tried to walk into the damned house!  Luckily Mom blocked the way.  The Viking is dead to me now, but at least Mom kept her integrity.  She didn’t fall for this disgusting display of blatant slut-iness.

Apparently his owners moved into the house next door despite my wishes to the contrary.  So he’ll be hanging around like a bad smell.  And I suppose Teddy will befriend it because that’s what Teddy does.  He’ll fall for anything if there’s a chin scratch involved.

Later, The Viking came in the house and tried to give me loves.  “Not today, Traitor!”  You’re unclean now.  This whole place has gone to hell in a hand basket!

What’s next?  Sleepovers?  Birthday parties?  Split holidays – one year at the neighbour’s one year with us?  Sweet Geezus!! What if they dress us up in matching costumes and parade us around the block?  Hallowe’en is coming, after all.  Gawd!

Well, there’s one cat here that won’t be taking part in any of that tomcatfoolery!  I have dignity.  I’m a lady!  

And why am I the one who has to monitor these things?  Isn’t there like a Feline Occupancy Law regarding how many cats are allowed in any one neighborhood?  The next time I see a By-Law Enforcement Officer, I’m going to lodge a firm and articulate complaint.

In the meantime, I will be watching The Viking very carefully to make sure he doesn’t get too attached to Charlie.


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Izzie – Grow Some Balls, Already!

I have a new collar.  Finally.  Mom took her sweet time replacing my Pearls.  Okay, maybe I’m being too harsh with Mom; maybe the fault belongs more with the 2 dogs across the alley.  Specifically, with the Owner of those dogs because he’s the genius that built a fence with the chain link that broke my Pearls.

And don’t think I had the choice not to bully the dogs.  Of course I had to bully them.  They are dogs!  Yappy dogs!  The kind of dogs that spend the entire day barking and barking, like they need constant assurance from humans.  That gets on my nerves!  I want to take a walk down the alley and Sweet Geezus!!  All hell breaks loose!

“OH MY GAWD!  Bark, bark, bark!  THERE’S A CAT!  A CAT!!!  HELP!  Bark, bark, bark.  SOMEONE SAVE ME!  OH GEEZ!!  IT LOOKED AT ME!  Bark, bark, bark!  HOLY SHIT IT’S COMING CLOSER!!”

Every damned time I walk in the alley!

And it’s not like they are little dogs either.  These are great big Labradors and I only weigh like 8 pounds.  It’s not like I could actually kill them.  Teddy and I sat in the middle of the alley last week, watching them run around their yard in a total panic, barking frantically.  Honestly, we were literally just sitting there, chatting between ourselves.

So I went in their yard to try and have a civilized conversation and come to a reasonable understanding about the barking.  It didn’t go well because the brown one started pissing everywhere!  I started to get a little verbally abusive and the barking escalated and I called the blonde one a “useless waste of fur” and then the Owner came out and I had to make a quick getaway.  Unfortunately, my beautiful pearls caught on the chain link and I was naked, streaking across the alley and back home.  I shouted a few expletives over my shoulder as I went, though.

So, how can I not bully them?  If they were barking death threats at me I would have at least a little respect for them, but the frenzy of fear is just pathetic.  Grow some balls, already!

But now, happily, I have a new collar.  Pink and clear beads.  It’s not Pearls but I suppose Mom did the best she could.  Maybe next time she’ll find Pearls – they are my favorite after all.

Mom tried to get a picture of me with my new bling but that didn’t work out for her very well.  She finally stripped them off me and took a picture of them.  What can I say?  I don’t like getting my picture taken.

If you care, please share.  To Facebook, Instagram, wherever.  I might get my Pearls faster.

Is That You, Mildred?

So I was at the grocery store yesterday – just picking up a few things for dinner.  It was nearly that time already but I had other things on my mind all day and suddenly I thought “Shit!  What am I going to make for dinner?!  It’s blisteringly hot outside so I’m not cooking inside.  Bar-B-Que it is!”

And everything went really well, almost right to the end.  Because as I was waiting for the scale to verify the weight of my bags I looked up and…..time stopped for a moment.

Is that Stanley’s* new wife?  Can I even call her the ‘new’ wife because it’s been a while since he married her.  I consider myself the ‘old’ wife so I suppose that would make her ‘new’ wife.

That kind of makes us sound like cars, doesn’t it?  I’m the old trade-in and she’s the shiny new one that smells awesome inside.  EWW…!!  That didn’t come out right.  Not that she doesn’t smell good inside…..but how would I even know that?  Geez!  Let’s just pretend I never said that, okay?

So……I look up from the scale and I see her, but I’m not 100% certain it’s her….I’m in more like the 85 percentile of positivity.  It looks like her but it’s been a while since I’ve seen her so maybe I’m wrong.  This store is a little out of her neighborhood and while I don’t mind her shopping at my grocery store, I would like to know if it is, indeed, Mildred* or not, because shopping like a Meerkat is going to get weird.

Let’s put that aside for now though, because there are bigger issues here than whether she is Mildred or she isn’t.  Namely, did she see me?  We didn’t quite make eye contact before I dropped my head and stared at the screen in front of me.  I diligently started scanning my items while my mind kicked into overdrive.

How am I supposed to behave?  What’s the protocol?  Do I wave?  Should I do the Floppy Wave and keep it loose and friendly?  A rigid, proper wave – my fingers straight and squeezed together, and make Wash On, Wash Off movements?  Maybe a Queenly Wave – my hand cupped, palm towards me with kind of scooping motions?  Or maybe she didn’t see me at all and the guy at the cashier behind her will think I’m hitting on him and I’ll have a situation in the parking lot?

Maybe I should just take a deep breath and plunge into the morass of awkward Divorc-i-ness.  I’m not harboring any bad feelings but I have no idea what the other side feels.  Maybe there is an incommunicado policy in place that I’m not aware of.  Did Stanley tell her that I wanted to give him away at their Wedding?  I thought it was a brilliant idea – the old wife officially giving him to the new wife.  That would have started things off on the right foot, in my opinion, but Stanley threatened death and dismemberment.

Even if I do decide to take the plunge, what do I say for an opening salvo?  Do I holler across 6 cashiers and say…..what?

“How’s that husband working out for you?”

Or “Hey Mildred!!  Lookin’ good!”

Or should I be more formal “Felicitations Mildred!”

By the time I finished paying for my stuff, I had decided to just screw up my courage and make an oblique approach and maybe accidentally bump into her cart.  I could pretend that I just saw her at this moment and not 5 minutes ago when I ducked down like a 3rd Grader.

There was a tiny whoosh of relief when I couldn’t see her.  And then I wondered if she was doing the same thing that I was doing because she had no damned idea how to behave in these circumstances either.  Maybe she hissed at her cashier to hurry the fuck up, then ran out of the store like the hounds of hell were at her heels.  Maybe she even squealed tires trying to get out of the parking lot before I made my way out of the store.  Probably not because she’s an adult, but I still wonder if she felt awkward too?

I’m going to blame this entirely on Stanley.  First, because I haven’t done that for years and second, because he should have let me give him away at his damned Wedding.  This wouldn’t even be an issue if we had started this off on the right foot to begin with.

In the meantime, I need a plan in case we bump into each other again.  I need a suave and elegant opener and then hope to hell I did my hair that morning.


*I’ve changed his name to protect his identity and privacy.  Because I’m just that kind of person.

*I’ve changed her name to protect her identity and privacy.  Because I’m just that kind of person.  What?!  I like the name Mildred and it goes quite nicely with Stanley.  Mildred and Stanley – see?  It rolls right off the tongue.

A Baby In Each Arm

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, the photo provided by Danny Bowman.


They stood side by side, the older woman’s arm around the younger. 

“Between those two humps, your great, great grandmother buried 2 children – it was cholera.  Three days later she gave birth to twins in the back of the wagon.  They had to stop when the babies came, then they travelled through the night to catch the other wagons.  She walked the whole time, a baby in each arm.”    


“Yes.  You come from a long line of strong women.  A broken heart might hurt like hell but it won’t kill you.” 


A long, comforting hug.   “I promise.” 

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