by Mewsette

January 2003

Hopes and Wishes Large and Small

I had lots of hopes and few wishes when I was young, but now it's the other way around.

In long ago days, I spent my days doing anything I wanted to. And now? Hmmmm. Well, actually, I spend them doing anything I want to. In days to come, I would only wish to be safe and happy, well cared for and loved. And now? Hmmmm. Well. honestly, I am safe and happy, well cared for and loved.

Okay, it seems that my wishes are taken care of already. So I'll think about my few hopes.

Hope seems to turn outward more than wishes do. I hope my human family has as safe a world to live in as I do personally, in years to come when I'm not here. I don't know how they'll manage that when, for one thing, they are nowhere near as wise as cats are; and for another, a lot of them spend their time hating and threatening all the rest. Not very admirable, are they? Peace for the world is a very nice hope I have, too. But realistically, nothing comes to the world unless everybody wants it. So I'll turn my hope to my own species. Aaah, that feels better.

In the year 2003, we cats still have a great division. Some of us are more loved and pampered than cats ever were. And some of us live in as much danger and hopelessness as cats ever did. But my hopes go to all of us.

I hope to see laws passed, not only against abuse, but against the wholesale slaughter of homeless cats; laws like they have in Europe. Yes, that's a tough one all right. I hope to see honest and well publicized research done into the causes of the human-type diseases we cats have an epidemic of, so a beginning can be made to wipe them out. Yes, that's a tough one, too.

And those are enough to wear me out. Except, oh, except, I still hope to get another sardine someday. Hope really must spring eternal!

February 2003

If A-Traveling I Would Go

I used to want to see all the cool, green, mossy, heathery, castley places in Europe I read about - Ireland, Scotland, places like that. But I'm purrty old now, and I'd rather stay in America. We don't have castles, but we've got the rest.

I want to see the ocean, too, but I don't want it all bright hot and tropical. Bright sun hurts my eyes. I want a silvery-brown wild and craggy place with windy waves crashing in a gray-white sea, and crabs running sideways in the rocks at dusk. I want to chase the crabs. I want to sit on a high windy rock and see the edge of the world, with just a few sunrays to keep me warm. I don't care for purrty, packaged places; I like wild places.

So where would I travel to for what I want to see? Coos Bay, Oregon, that's where. Right on the wild part of the Pacific coast. I saw my mom's pictures of it from when she was there forever ago. It's purrfect. It's all heavy forest around the bay, and I love the forest, too. Some of the trees are so huge, and it's very near the Redwood forests. I want to see the Redwoods, too. I know they're in Cali-furnia, but I'd pretend I was still in Oregon. Don't want to go to Cali-furnia because HollyWoody is in there somewhere, and I don't need to see That.

A travel-trip to Coos Bay would be purrfect to take when it's getting too hot where I live, because it's still cool there most of the time. I want to go there on a train with the wheels going clickety-click all night, not in a car, and not in a plane! And just think of all those crabs and fish to eat! Yup, that's where I would travel to, if a-traveling I would go.

May 2003

My Job Interview

Sign seen posted in a Beauty Parlor window:

WANTED: Feline Beautician

Good afternoon. My name is M. Mewsette Chantoo. I see that you need a Feline Beautician, and I'd like to apply for the job.

Experience? Oh my, yes, 17 years of experience in grooming and cleaning kitty fur; my own and my late mama's. You can see that I keep my own long, gorgeous fur in perfect order and beautifully styled. This is not easy! It takes great expertise.

What have I Done before? Well, I'm a lady of maturity and many talents. My job history has been quite varied and satisfying. I have worked as a fashion model, as you may surmise from my tall, slim figure. I have had a glorious career as an opera singer, and I've been an actress. You may have seen my performance of Blanche DuBois on the stage? Yes, that was I. I've been an active Catsumer Advocate of late. Oh yes, quite fulfilling. I'm very persuasive and I never give up. I always made the longest speeches. In my youth, I also did exciting work, such as being a Safari Guide. So my work experience has been quite well-rounded.

What do I Know about feline beauty concerns? Everything. I know how to deal with kitty fur that kinks and curls, that sheds and flies around in the air, and most important, I know how to deal with mats. I am also an expert manicurist, taking care to trim only the sharp points of the claws. I take particular care with delicate ears, long tails and small toes. I can bathe and groom anything, even a human arm. I know I possess the qualities for a position in the beauty business, and I have impeccable taste. You will not find a more gifted purveyer of beauty than I.

So...., do I have the job? You're looking for what as well? A Manager? But of course I accept. Thank you.

June

On Being a Writer

I never thought I'd be a writer when I was young. I just grew up loving my life as a cat, reveling in every minute of it, and going out seeking better adventures when I got bored.

I've been a lot of things as a cat. Really. My mom says I deserve acatemy awards as an actress. I do the most heart-rending version of Camille you ever saw, and I've performed my Blanche DeBois in three homes. With an audience, too. And I sing, true, clear soprano. Think I'm kidding? Nope. You should hear me do Julie Andrews singing Edelweiss. You can hardly tell it's not her. Or my performance of Madama Butterfly at the back door. But my audience there is mostly a brown bunny, four shocked birds, and a dozen doodlebugs. There was something missing.

Then I discovered making speeches on podiums to other cats. Yes, yes. Perfect for someone who's talked a blue streak all their life. But the words go away then. I love words. I want them to stay. Write them down. Yes.

Writing all the talking. There it was. Writing poetry to the rhythms I feel. Writing my opinions, cause they're all so good. Thinking up stories when I run out of those. And the whole wide world opened up. Now I'd rather write than anything. Well, almost. There's a lot to be said for long naps, too.

Good writing requires some discipline, as we all know. I was never good at discipline before. But know what? It doesn't hurt a bit. Once in a while it's hard, and every word has to be given birth to. Ow. Mostly, it flows, cause there are so many good words, you just never run out. And once in a great while, something writes itself. Really. It feels like I didn't do it at all; I just sat there and watched. Those things turn out to be the best. I can't explain it, it just happens.

Being a writer has some general rules, too. I was never good at rules. I break them. But the most important one I very seldom break. That one is: Write what you know. Do we know enough stuff to be good writers? Sure. If we don't, we can go read some books and add more. Writing what we know means writing true. I can dream up stories, but they have to have something true in them, something I know about myself. So they always do.

I heard of another rule, too, about editing and cutting our work. Boy, is that a hard one. That means throwing out some of those words you liked so much when you wrote them. I admit I don't follow that one very well, but I'm working on it. Sort of.

The most important rule, I guess, is that you've gotta love to write. If you don't love it, why do it? Writing isn't a job, it isn't a hobby, it isn't a therapy - though it may be some of those at some times. It's a life.

Well, this was going to be an essay on being a writer. I'm not sure it is. I think maybe it's a love letter to writing, from a cat.

July

My Independence Day

This 4th of July is my 18th Independence Day. If ever a species loved independence and freedom, it is cats. And if ever a cat did, it is me.

Liberty is a beautiful word, isn't it? It's one of my favorites. I have a love affair with words anyway, and Liberty is right up there with Laureate, and Valhalla, and Ocean, and Meow. I love liberty because I'm a cat. There's no other way I could live but free. So I know why humans feel that way, too. They should. (If they don't, they should be ashamed.) Liberty and independence are things a cat takes for herself automatically. But they are things that some humans have had to fight for and die for. Why they have to, I don't really understand, but why they do I understand perfectly.

I won't pretend I like all the noise when American humans celebrate their glorious independence on the 4th of July. But I don't deny they should have perfect freedom to make all that noise! I won't claim I don't spend the night under the bed; I do. But I'm there when it thunders, too. Loud noises hurt my ears. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Actually, I remember last July 4th the most of all the ones I've known, because I was so very sick. It was kind of a turning point for me. I'd either get through it, or I wouldn't. We hardly noticed what day it was at my house. Nobody knows how sick I really was. But I made it! I came back. I always do.

I think the most important and appreciated 4th of July for a long time was that same one; the first one after the 9-11 attack on our country. Maybe our country had been a little sick and not noticing the 4th as much, too. And the USA would either get through that horrible time or it wouldn't. Well, it did. We made it. We came back. We always do.

July Challenge News Article

CLAW City Chronicle
July 5

A Month for Hot Dogs

by Mewsette

The annual celebration of Hot Dog Month was observed yesterday in City Park. As the temperature soared to 95 degrees, many of our fine residents set up tables for their picnic lunches under the shade trees.

"My my, this is sure the hottest day we've had this year," said a high-ranking city official on condition of anonymity. "Those who brought hotdogs better eat them fast before they spoil."

At noon, the honorees of the day began to arrive. There were large dogs, small dogs, purebred dogs, mongrel dogs, and some that did not appear to be dogs at all. Diversity among dogs was well represented, but they all had one thing in common. They were hot.

"Those poor dogs look hot, all right," claimed one lifelong resident on condition of anonymity. Whether or not there was general agreement among residents was not immediately apparent.

One panting Pekinese, who declined to identify herself, was approaching prostration. "Why are all the shade trees taken?" she complained.

It seemed to be the general consensus among the dogs that the shade trees were all taken by the cats. But none were willing to go on record with that.

A claim was made that a sweating Cocker Spaniel growled at the Mayor, but that report could not be verified.

"Get out of my face before I bite you," snarled Mayor Morris, just before he stood on a picnic table and demanded that the overheated dogs be sent home.

There was murmuring in the crowd and a gasp here and there. "Was that dislike-speech?" asked Fluffy Scratcher, 15, of 203 Catnip Avenue.

"Naww," replied a member of the School Board, a Siamese who covered his face with a fan and declined to go into further detail.

The hot dogs were escorted, panting, out of the park at approximately 2:17 P.M. This reporter has learned that they continued on immediately to their air conditioned homes.

A fine time was had by all.

September

New Tricks

You can't teach an old dog new tricks, they say. Wonder if you can teach a new old dog old ones. Hmmm. Bor-ing. But an old cat can always learn new tricks. I'm still doing it, and if I'm not old, nobody is.

See, I figure I've learned all I gotta know at the age of 17. If I don't know it now, I don't need to. I haf a wall full of diplomas from CLAW U, both the old and the new. No way are you gonna get me back in a classroom now, except for the ones I teach. Academe' has had its day. I could lie here comfortably scrunched up against my mom and contemplate all the stuff I know. Bor-ing.

But I still like to do new things. I might not think so at first, but then, if they look like fun, I will. And sure enough, it is fun! I also like to try out new habits and adopt new places to nest, just to keep my mom guessing and myself unbored.

So that might be something I've learned that stands out. It's not serious, as when I mew about learning to persevere; it's not about self-image, as when I mew about Shining. It's just about everyday boredom. I learned I don't gotta put up wif it. I'm a fascinating cat, after all, wif all kinds of options. I didn't say all options, I just said all kinds of. If boredom descends, I can just get up and go unbore myself.

I may go make a nest in my mom's fabrics box. She loved that; it was the most entertaining thing I did all week. I may go flip a scratch pad upside down. My sisfur has a fit, cause she doesn't know how to flip it back. (I don't either, but that's beside the point.) I may pull my littlest water dish clear across the room where Mom can't find it and watch her get her socks wet. I may go out to my enclosed porch and perform a matinee of the last act of Madama Butterfly. The matinee audience is better than the one at 3 A.M., anyway. And my mom doesn't take so long to attend.

Okay, this essay was supposed to be about something I've learned. Well, I've learned everything. So it's about learning not to be bored. In case you couldn't tell.

November

A Musical Aria Moment

I've had lots of musical moments in 17 years, but the one that made a lasting impact on me was an aria moment. It was years ago, when my human auntie came to visit and played a tape of the opera Madama Butterfly. That was the first time I'd efur heard opera, but I already did a lot of singing. I knew I had to sing Madama Butterfly, her final aria at the end when she dies. And I do. It's sooo heartbreaking, sooo dramatic, and I am soooo good at it! I perform that aria nearly efurry night. My mom says I'm talented, but she says opera performances are not usually given at 3 A.M. Why not? It's as good a time as any.

I know another one, too, Toreadoro from Carmen. I think it's from Carmen; opera bores my mom and she nefur buys me any. I performed Toreadoro for the Vet's office last month. They were furry impressed.

My auntie is delighted that I can sing opera. That's because ... I mean... Even though she lives in another state and doesn't get to hear me. She says I must take after my mom, because my mom sang with a dance band in the Olden Days. Not so. Anybody can sing pop, those songs got about four notes. Anyway, Mom's an alto and I'm a clear, high soprano. Just anybody can't sing Madama Butterfly.

So that long ago moment was why I became an opera singer.

December

The Best Gift Ever, my Challenge Interview

I thought I'd interview my human mom, because we talk together all the time and it would be easy. Also because, ummmm, there's nobody else around here to interview except my sisfur Phelicity. But she was mewing "interview" noises too, and batting her blue eyes at me and Mom almost like she does at boys.

I thought fast. My mom isn't good at pleasing both of us at once, because she says one of us gets out of arm's reach, like across the room. If I cooperate with my sisfur later (who, me??), I get first dibs on Mom. If I don't, I gotta interview my sisfur, and I already know everything she thinks. Because she tells it. At great length.

Thoughts are over. I jump up (well, sorta; I am 17 years old) on the couch by Mom and start a conversation like I always do.

Myself: (between purrs and love-looks) "Mew like to get gifts, huh, Mom?"

Mom: (rubbing my neck absentmindedly) "Mmm-hmmm."

Myself: (knowing my mom is a person of few words because she's used to cats doing all the talking) "Well, what would mew say was the best gift mew efur received?"

Mom: (kissing the top of my head absentmindedly) "You are, sweetheart."

Myself: "Me? Myself, er.. I?" (This is not going well. If I write that, I'll sound vain, and everykitty knows I'm the most modest cat on earth.) "But I'm not a gift."

Mom: (feeling my tummy fur for mats absentmindedly) "Yes, you are. Every day of your life is a gift to me, baby."

Myself: (after some head bumps) "Thank mew. But somebody didn't giff me to mew like a present, right? In a box wiff a bow on? I mean like getting a present."

Mom: (stroking my back absentmindedly) "Yes, somebody did. Your mama did, all those years ago. Your mama gave me the best gift I ever got. She gave me you."

I don't think I was cut out to interview humans. Not my own, anyway. I just sat there with a tear in my eye, thinking about long life and deep love, and how nice it is to be a gift.

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