Heartbroken

Beau died the evening of November 18 while I held him.  He will be missed more than I can express.  I'm so far beyond sad there isn't a word for it.  I'll be back after I regroup.

About Beau

He was one day old when he stole my heart.  A little striped, speckled kitty, one of a litter of six.  Yes, one of the litter yet not.  I knew the first moment I saw him that he was different.  A very powerful magical creature in the guise of a tiny kitten.

I found homes for the others. Beau claimed me from the start. We went home, this wee one pound ball of fluff and it wasn’t long before he took over the house. The three older cats already in residence were quickly under his spell. Oh he lets them think they are dominant to him but that’s all part of his plan.

Beau is a storyteller. Always has been. He whispers to me, sometimes complete tales, sometimes snippets that I must then fill in the blanks. You’d think something so adorable wouldn’t be so wicked but trust me, he is. We are working on a book of Beau Tales that will astound you when he decides it’s ready for public viewing.

He’s been under the weather lately. Yeah, that’s an understatement. He stopped eating and hasn’t gotten back to it yet. I believe he will. When he is ready and not a moment sooner. My wonderful vet has done everything for him. Exploratory surgery, biopsies, supportive care. She sent him home because she thought he would be more comfortable there, which I’m sure he is.

The first two days he was back he stayed downstairs. I slept on the sofa to be near him. This morning, after we did his IV fluids he put himself to bed in his regular spot between the pillows, under the covers. He’s still not eating but I see this as a good thing, like he’s saying he’ll be sticking around. Part of me suspects he’s in collusion with the big cats. They’ve been getting all the leftovers of the foods I’ve been offering him, things they rarely get.

My little Beau kitty. Magical beyond belief. Clever as hell. Naughty as can be but cute enough to get away with anything. He’s one of a kind and I’m the luckiest person alive because he chose me. May we have many more years of shared adventures!

Uh Oh

Beau is plotting again.  I was making real progress on book 4, Jesse's story.  And then out of the blue I woke up to these two teasers.

#1 - Humans. They're so inane. Or most are. My latest is decent as they come but hardly up to par with me. I suppose I'll keep her a while now that I have her almost fully trained. Also she amuses  me. Very few I can say that about. We moved recently. I wasn't working on anything in particular at the moment so I saw no harm in accompanying her. Her senses are lacking in comparison so I figured I'd tag along just in case something came up.

#2 -  I have a secret. Or so I thought. But I'm not the only one.

I found them in my email.  They were sent from my phone.  I know I didn't send them.  Which takes us back to Beau.  He does this to me all the time, clever little kitty that he is.

As I said I've been poking at book 4.  But I know better than to ignore Beau once he sends the beginning of something out into the universe.  Can't wait to see where these lead.

Breathing Room update - Currently at 39% with 35 days to go.  Please help if you can.  Little bits add up!

Celebrate!

Birthdays today! 

Please join me in wishing my friend, B a very happy day.  We started as coworkers eons ago when she thought she was coming in temporarily and ended staying for years.  During that time we chatted and became friends.  Yes, many good memories from that time in my life, thanks to her.  She moved away but we have managed to stay in touch.  I’m amazed how her son has grown into a splendid man with a family of his own yet she and I haven’t aged a day.  So happy birthday B.  Raising a glass in your hometown to you tonight.

Today is also Beau the Magical Kitty’s birthday.  He’s survived his terrible twos, barely, and is embarking on his third year.  I know, I know.  Stop laughing.  The notion that Beau will ever cease and desist in his antics is about as farfetched as saying I will but it’s his birthday so we should give him a twenty-four hour free pass. 

We’re still working on his collection of wicked little stories and have recently begun an adventure tale, starring him of course.  Who knows what the future will hold in regard to his talented, twisted mind!  We’ll all have to just wait and see, won’t we?  In the meantime, have some birthday tuna in his honor and send good tidings out on the wind for him to collect.

Happy weekend, all!

Silliness

I’ve mentioned before how there are times when Beau whispers tales as we’re drifting off to sleep.  I love when he does that because I never know what to expect.

Last night before bed, he was exceptionally wound up and kittenish, pesting the big cats mercilessly, working their last nerves I’m sure.  I told him to quit but he was so cute that I was laughing too hard for it to have much affect.

I was surprised when he curled up with me right away.  Usually when he’s that manic it takes hours for him to settle in.  I soon learned it was my turn to be his target only in a different way.

Here is what he came up with last night.  Sorry it’s incomplete.  He bounded off in the middle to return to the task of tormenting the big cats and playing with noisy toys under the bed.

There is a horse on the stairs

stretching up from the sea

He’s come to the rescue

Saving us both, you and me

Horse whistles a tune

older than old

Weaving and wafting

Truth be told

Climb on his back

He’s come to help

Swim ‘neath the sea

Beware the kelp

Songs of sirens

Horse knows them all

Hold on tight

Heed his call

Okay so I admit it.  By the time he got that far I was giggling just as much as he was.  Sometimes being transcriptionist for a cat is funny.

Beau's First Tale

Some of you may remember this since I think I may have posted it before.  But I don't think I gave Beau appropriate credit at the time so he decided I needed to rectify that.  He's holding the ending of his new tale hostage until I do so here you go.  Beau's first creepy little story.

Little Callie Winslow was walking home from school today.  She was all alone because her best friend, Bitsy who she usually walked with was home sick.  Being the good friend she is, Callie had Bitsy’s books with her so she could catch up on her homework.  Added to hers, her book bag was very heavy for such a little girl.

When Callie got to the path in the woods they took most days, she hesitated.  Everyone always said don’t cut through there alone and Callie never had.  No one she knew in her entire eight years of life ever had.  It was a bright, sunny day, Indian summer and Callie was tired.  She’d been going the long way around all week.  But she and Bitsy had walked through the woods together since they’d started school and nothing ever happened.  There was nothing scary in the woods so just this once Callie decided she would do it.  Who would ever know?

Little Callie Winslow looked around to make sure no one was near. It would be just like the older boys to sneak up behind her and try to scare her if they saw her going into the woods alone. She saw no one so she stepped off the road and started up the path.  A few steps into the woods the temperature dropped.  Callie thought it had to be the shade since there were still a few leaves on the trees.  That had to be why it seemed suddenly darker too.

There hadn’t been any breeze before but now the trees were chattering.  Branches clicking, clacking, tapping as if in warning, telling Callie to turn back before it’s too late.  Or were they marking her progress, her solitary state, her foolhardy venture?  Callie looked to her left, to her right and saw nothing.  Everyone was just being silly, telling her not to go into the woods alone.  She walked a little further before the rustling started. She didn’t see anything but was sure it had to be the little creatures that always lived in the woods.  Bunnies, squirrels, chipmunks, maybe even a skunk although it didn’t smell like a skunk was near.

She kept going.  Off to the side there was movement, something scurrying in the underbrush.  Callie thought long and hard and realized she and Bitsy had never seen any of the critters she pictured in her mind.  Still, it had to be one of them.  It just had to be. A crow cawed overhead.  Those, she and Bitsy had seen.  They’d even talked to one when it hadn’t flown away at their passing.  The crow today was louder so Callie looked up and froze.  There was more than one and they all seemed to be watching her.  And they weren’t at the top of the trees.  No, today they were lower, staring at her with their beady black eyes as they called out to each other.

It grew colder still and Callie began to be afraid.  She hadn’t gone all that far so she decided maybe she better go back only when she turned around the path was gone.  Everything had shifted.  Nothing looked familiar.  She tried to run the way she’d been going but stumbled.  Things that way weren’t the same either.  What was happening to the woods?  The rustling was coming closer, closer and the crows, oh the crows were making such a ruckus.  They were so loud she couldn’t hear the prayers that she’d begun to utter.

Little Callie Winslow went into the woods today and never came out.  She was never seen again.  And when Bitsy’s books, homework assignments tucked inside, were found at the beginning of the path, no one bothered to keep looking for her.  She would not be found but she wasn’t forgotten.  Oh no. As those before, when some foolish soul went missing the next generation told their children to remember, remember little Callie Winslow and do not go into the woods alone.