Scat Cat is back! Chap. 5

For anyone who's been following the perils of my lost Cat...here's the next chapter.

Chapter Five: Friends and Foes

“Whew, that was close,” said Hunter with a sigh of relief. “I really thought they were going to find me.”

“They would have, you know, if it hadn’t been for me.”

“Who and where are you? Are you the strange Prickler they were talking about?”

“Indeed I am, little friend. My name is Spike and I’m right here, one branch below you. You were so frightened and anxious to find a safe place that you didn’t notice me, climbin' up behind you.”

“You’re the reason that the Howlers went away, aren’t you? Are you dangerous?”

“Not to you, little one. If you come closer, we can have a proper introduction and share our stories. Just be sure that when you climb down, you don’t get TOO close to me. You’ll see why when you get here.”

“Well, Spike, I think I can trust you, so make way. I’m going to back down this tree. Please tell me when close is TOO close, OK?”

Hunter made his descent to the lower branch without any mishap and found himself face to face with yet another peculiar creature. There was a kindly furry face attached to a very unusual body. The front part was very nicely furred, but the back part and tail were covered in hair and long sharp-looking spines.

“Well, now I know why they called you a Prickler,” said Hunter. “What do you do with those things? Do they help you get food? Oh, Spike, excuse me. I haven’t even told you my name and here I go asking too many questions.”

“No harm done, uh…what did you say your name was?”

“I apologize again. My name is Hunter and I’m hunting for a home and family, among other things. My nerves must really be on edge because of that pack of Howlers. My Mother would think me most impolite, Spike.”

“Greetings, Hunter. I can tell you’ve never met a Prickler before. I think perhaps it’s time for a little lesson, in case of another chance meetin' with one o' my kind.”

“I’d appreciate that, Spike. If the Howlers don’t want a dispute with you, then neither do I.”

“Well, first of all, if you ever meet any Pricklers again, you need the passwords that let 'em know you’re a friend, not a foe. Come closer, I don’t want to say it too loud, in case there are any other curious ears around.”

Hunter came up to Spike until their noses were almost touching. “What are the passwords, please?” whispered Hunter.

“Now keep this to yourself, won’t you. Do you promise?”

“I promise to always keep the Prickler passwords private.”

“Okay, then, here they are. Whenever you come upon a Prickler, just ask this question…you really promise you won’t tell?”

“On my honor, Spike, I promise never, never to tell a soul.”

“All right then, here’s the question. ‘Does the ferocious FurMountain make brown logs in the forest?’”

“Oh, Spike, you don’t mean it!” Hunter began to laugh, the first laugh he’d had in a long, long time. He laughed so hard he could barely keep his perch on the tree branch. “I’m sorry. I think I might be a tiny bit silly. It must be from all the excitement. I’ve been in quite a few scrapes lately and this is such a relief. FurMountains in the forest… it’s just too funny for words.” Hunter began to laugh again until tears were rolling down his face. (If you’ve never heard a cat laugh, it’s somewhere between a cough and a purr. It comes out in short little bursts, sort of like hiccups, but closer together.)

“Now, Hunter, I don’t think it’s all THAT funny and you won’t either if you ever meet a FurMountain or an unfriendly Prickler. But we’ve gotten off the subject. You must pay attention! You don’t even know the answer yet. Please calm yerself down and listen. It could be important some day.”

“I’m sorry, Spike. I don’t mean to make fun of your passwords, but…. FurMountains! Okay, when I meet a Prickler, I ask him that question. I can’t even say it out loud. Krr, Krr, Krr.” (This is the sound of one cat laughing.) “What will the Prickler’s answer be?” asked Hunter, trying to keep a serious expression on his face.

“All right, settle down please, Hunter. After you ask, ‘Does the ferocious FurMountain make brown logs in the forest?’ The Prickler will answer, ‘One that would have the fruit, must climb the tree.’ Now repeat the passwords for me until I’m sure you have 'em right.”

“Repeat the passwords! Oh, Spike, I could never forget those passwords.” There were a few more laughs that finally turned into giggles and at last Hunter was able to turn to Spike and talk in a fairly normal voice. “Please believe me Spike, I really don’t mean any disrespect to you or any of the Pricklers. I think I just needed a release from all the tension I’ve been under. I’m so glad to have met you, that I would hug you, if I could.”

“That’s all right Hunter, no offense taken. Just remember what I told you. You never know when you might need a friend in a sticky situation, if you get my point…no pun intended.”

“Well, Spike, I’ll always be thankful for meeting you tonight. I think we should share our stories. You still haven’t told me about those spines of yours, although I have some pretty good ideas for using them. Maybe you could wade in the water and catch fish. How about picking berries, all you would have to do is walk through the bushes or roll on the ground.”

“Oh, Hunter, now it’s my turn to laugh. Why do you think those Howlers left me alone? My spines, as you called ‘em, are quills, and they’re my best defense. If someone thinks they can take a bite out of me, they end up with a face full of quills. They’re mighty hard to get rid of too, since they have a kind of hook on ‘em that goes right into my attacker’s skin. Some of the silly critters think I can even throw my quills at ‘em. Now that’s just not so, but if it keeps ‘em away from me, who am I to tell ‘em the truth? As for fish or berries, I’ve got no use for them. I get my food right up here in the trees. Nice fresh bark and tender branches. Yup, that’s a real satisfying meal, I must say.”

“Well, so far, I haven’t had to resort to eating trees, but I certainly wouldn’t mind some sort of meal right now. It’s been quite a while since I felt satisfied. Do you think there’s anything around here that a small Cat could eat?”

“Well, Hunter. Now that I get a good look at you, you do look a little worse for wear and mighty skinny too, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so. There are quite a few small critters livin’ around this water that would probably be wholesome to eat, if you can catch ‘em, that is. Now, you climb right down and have a go at it. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay up here and keep watch and have a bit of supper while I’m at it.”

Hunter made his way down the tree and started to explore. It wasn’t long before he came upon a small green creature sitting by the water’s edge. Hunter crouched down, waggled his rear till his position was just right, and pounced! To his immense surprise, the green one hopped into the water and disappeared.

“Wow, I really thought I had that one right where I wanted him. What a jump! Where did he go?” Hunter could hear Spike chuckling up in the tree. “It wouldn’t be so funny if you were the one with the empty tummy, Spike.” Hunter looked back in the water and saw the Green One floating right in the middle of the stream, well out of his reach. As Hunter was pondering his next move, he heard a strange twanging voice.

“You better go home, bug-yum. You better go home, bug-yum.” It was the Green One, now sitting on a large leaf in the middle of the water, looking straight at Hunter with his big solemn eyes.

Hunter was astonished. “Why, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” he marveled. “How did you know that, and what’s with the bug-yum thing?”

Spike started to chuckle again and called down to Hunter. “Ah, don’t pay any attention to that one. That’s all he can say, and the only thing he’s interested in is his ‘bug-yum’ because bugs are all he eats… a pretty dull fella to my way of thinkin’. You won’t catch ‘im either, and even if you did, he’d taste real bad, I bet, sort of muddy and slimy at the same time. But that’s only a guess, don’t ya know, with me bein’ a tree-a-tarian.”

“Well, I’ve got to find something to eat! I need to keep up my strength.” So Hunter stalked along the water’s edge until he spotted a hapless Squeaker, very preoccupied with eating some seeds. This time his waggle and pounce were perfect. After a tasty meal, a drink of the fresh cool water, and a satisfying wash-up, Hunter felt much better. It was only after he settled down for a nap that he realized that the song of the Green One was becoming a full chorus. Everywhere, he heard them singing; “You better go home. You better go home. You better go home.”

“Listen to them, Spike. It’s some kind of message, just for me. They know that I must find a safe place to call home. I guess I’ll have to start sooner than I planned. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better, Spike. You really did save my life, you know. I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for Pricklers, especially if they’re all like you.”

“That’s a mighty nice thing to say, Hunter. I guess I’ll think better of you Cat Folk, too. If you’re lookin’ for the houses of the Big Ones, I do believe there’s one near the next forest, not too far from here. Promise me you’ll be more careful in your travels. I want to think of you, livin’ warm and comfy, with no worries in your little head. I won’t forget you either, Hunter. We could have been great pals, but Cat Folk are better off inside a house. Livin’ out here, they might end up inside somebody else’s insides, or just a splot in the hard path. Good journey to you, my little friend and don’t forget the passwords.”

“Don’t worry, Spike. That’s something I’ll always remember. Long life to you and all your kin.”

So Hunter again began his search, a little wiser and a little sadder, but determined to find a family of his own.

Scat, Cat! Chapter 4

As you can see, I've posted the next chapter of Scat, Cat.

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Four: Hide and Seek

Hunter traveled far that day, only stopping to eat and drink. He noticed that the houses of the Big Ones were nowhere to be seen and that the dark mysterious trees were closer and closer together. When it was time for sleep, Hunter wormed his way through the tangled grass until he found a cave-like space under some leafy bushes. He noticed that his fur was covered with little prickly seeds and his eye was beginning to itch and water. “I’d better catch up on my grooming, or no one will want to give me a home.” After a good wash-up, he settled down and tried to rest, but each little whisper of wind or rustle of grass made him startle and worry about who or what could be out there.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, for the next thing he knew there was daylight peeping into his shelter, along with a strange furry face. Hunter jumped up, arching his back. “Who and what are you?” he spat. “Leave me in peace, for I want no argument with a creature that smells like you!”

The stranger backed away with a mysterious little laugh. Hunter could see that it was black and white, just like him, but he knew it was not one of the People… definitely not.

“My name is DigsGrubs and you are certainly no danger to me, little Hisser. In fact, if I chose to, I could give you a painful little surprise.”

Hunter was amazed that he could understand the other’s speech. There was a curious lilt to it, but basically it was the same as that of the People.

“Sorry, Mr. Digsgrubs, but I was just startled, I guess. How is it that you and I speak the same language? You are not one of the People.”

“ Ah, little Hisser, I can see you haven’t been around the meadow, so to speak. All Nature’s children speak the same language. Sadly, there are some who have forgotten it, like the Big Ones and a few of the Swimmers and Slitherers. Yes, it is a tragic thing, I’m thinkin’.”

“How curious! Thank you for the information. It’s good to know that I’ll be able to speak with other creatures I might meet in my travels. But let me introduce myself. My name is Hunter and you shouldn’t have surprised me like that. I’m not familiar with this place and there are many enemies here.”

“Enemies! If you’re so afraid of enemies, you should have been more vigilant, my friend. I was able to find you with no trouble at all. In the future, you’d best be more alert.”

Hunter realized that this was certainly good advice and decided to see what else he might learn from his curious new acquaintance. “Greetings and apologies to you Digsgrubs. I must have fallen asleep. I’m glad it was you who found me and not someone more menacing. Uh, DigsGrubs, I don’t mean to be impolite, but you, um…well… um… you kind of smell funny.”

“That’s my surprise, Hunter. It’s my secret weapon, since I can’t run fast or climb trees like you can. Only last night I had to give some of the Howlers a good lesson with my spray.”

“Howlers! Are they still here? Where are they? I was warned about them. I’ve got to run away, if they’re still here.”

“Ah, don’t worry, they’re all asleep now and you can smell ‘em a field away, thanks to me. If you travel tonight, though, under the round White-Eye, you may run into ‘em. They love to run and howl and hunt poor, unfortunate, wee ones when the White-Eye is up. But Hunter, now that we’ve introduced ourselves, maybe you can fill me in on your story. I’m sure you have one. By the looks of you, you’re in the middle of some adventure, I’ll bet. Just where are you headed, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“It’s a long story, DigsGrubs, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Aye, that I do, little Hunter. I don’t get to speak with strangers very often and I like to hear their tales of the wide world when I get the chance.”

“Okay, DigsGrubs, but remember, you asked for it.” So Hunter again began his story and he could see DigsGrubs eyes getting bigger and bigger as his tale came to an end. “Well, that’s about it, I guess, but it all boils down to my search for a new home, I hope with some kindly Big Ones. Do you know if any live near here?”

“I’m the wrong one to ask about the Big Ones, kindly or otherwise. They want nothin’ to do with the likes of me and from the sound of em’, I want nothin’ to do with them either! Course I really don’t have much to do with any other kind of critter. We Stripers have to stick together, if you know what I mean. I do know that there’s a Big One’s house about three fields further down the path. There’s already a Hisser like you livin’ there, but they might take you in. At least you might find a good hidin’ place if the Howlers catch your scent.”

“Thank you, DigsGrubs. I might as well find myself something to eat and get started. Good hunting and long life to you.”

“I thank thee too, Hunter. You’re the most polite Hisser I’ve ever met, I must say. Keep your wits about you and have a safe journey. It was a pleasure meetin’ you. I must be off to the Missus. She’ll be wonderin’ where I’ve been, but at least I’ll have an interesting tale to tell when I get back to the burrow. Good huntin’ to you too, little Hisser.”

So Hunter began another leg of his journey, thinking of DigsGrubs and the others he had met. He was already missing their company and good advice but his education in the ways of the world was growing by leaps and bounds and for this he gave thanks to Bast and all his lucky stars.

“Well, the first order of business must be breakfast. It will have to be something quick. I want to get as far away from the Howlers as I can when it starts to get dark.”

So Hunter made his way through the meadow, till he found some tasty looking Crickets, hiding in the shade of an old tree limb. He was not very satisfied with his meal, but it would have to do. He made his way back to the path and started his search for the house that DigsGrubs had mentioned. Just when he thought he couldn’t walk a step farther, it came into view. It was a rambling white house, standing at the end of a long stony path, on the top of a small wooded hill.

“Well, this must be the place. It looks inviting and there is a Big One right there in the path. He’s doing something to his Rumbler, but at least the Rumbler isn’t rumbling right now. I think I’ll take a chance.” Hunter started trotting up the stony path, trying his best to catch the Big One’s attention. “Mew? Mew? Prrrow?”

The Big One finally turned to Hunter, but instead of a kindly welcome; he shouted the familiar, “Get lost, Cat” and picked up what looked like a long green Slitherer. Hunter stopped dead in his tracks.

“What can the Big One possibly be doing with a Slitherer?” He didn’t have long to wait for his answer. The Big One pointed the Slitherer at Hunter and out poured a frigid stinging stream of water, thoroughly dousing the little Cat. Hunter turned and fled; too frightened to even watch where he was going. He dashed across the hard path just barely ahead of a speeding Rumbler. He finally came to a trembling halt at the edge of a gurgling stream.

“Oh no, not more water! That’s exactly what I don’t need.” He looked around and found himself in a small valley with lots of trees and bushes and small little hidey-holes bordering the banks of the stream.

“I’ve got to find a safe place and pull myself together. Then I must dry myself off before it gets dark and cold.” He spotted a half-broken tree branch, covered with wild grapevines. The vines were very thick and hung all the way to the ground. Inside it was dry and cozy, the perfect spot to gather his wits and tend to his fur.

“I hope that no one else likes to use this place,” he said shakily. “I don’t think I can travel one more step tonight.” So in he went and got to work trying to dry himself off. He noticed that he still had some sticky seeds in his fur and his eye was really starting to feel strange, sort of gummy and tingly. When his grooming was over, he curled up in the smallest little ball that he could possibly make and tried to console himself. “I’ve got to believe that DigsGrubs and Snow were right,” he whimpered. “THAT house certainly didn’t have any kindly Big Ones. I must keep trying. I must keep trying.” Hunter kept repeating this hopeful phrase until he finally dozed off. This night he dreamt of his Mother and again heard her sing about the brave and clever Cat. If anyone was watching, they would have noticed a tiny little smile on the small Cat’s face, but there was no one to see, save one careless moth that fluttered in and quickly fluttered out.

The moon was riding high in the sky when Hunter awoke to a sound that he had been dreading. From somewhere in the little valley came howls and yips and yaps that made his blood run cold. It was the sound of the Howlers and it seemed to be getting closer. As Hunter lay there, frozen with fear, he realized he could make out words in the frightful chorus.

“We howl and yowl. We’re on the prowl.

Beware. Beware.

We pounce and tear, be it foul or fair.

Beware. Beware.

We search for meat. We need to eat.

Beware. Beware. Beware!”

Hunter knew he needed to move, and fast! He scrambled out from his little nest and up the nearest tree. Up and up he went, until the branches and leaves were thick enough to hide him from view. He held himself as still as possible as the pack came closer and closer. Soon he could see them coming, running in a loose disorderly group, the moonlight reflecting in their yellow eyes. Just as Hunter thought they would pass right by him, the largest Howler yowled out in his rough voice.

“Halt, all of you! We will stop here to rest and drink.” The pack splashed around in the water, still yipping and growling at one another. “Silence, you foolish puppies! How do you expect to find prey if you continue your senseless noise?” The Howlers then began to settle down in twos and threes, while others drank and others kept watch.

Hunter was afraid to even move an eyelash and clung to his branch with all his might. After what seemed like hours, the pack below seemed to be getting ready to move on. The leader was just beginning to trot off with the others behind him, when he put his nose into the air and scented the wind.

“Wait, my friends. There is a delicious aroma drifting on the breeze. Can you smell it? Tender, juicy… my mouth is watering just thinking about it. It’s a Hisser…not too far away, either. Help me track it down.” The Howlers put their noses to the ground and thoroughly searched the glen. It didn’t take them long to find the place where Hunter had slept. “Here! Here! This is where it hid,” they yipped. The leader came over and gave the spot a thorough sniffing. “Yes, it was here, but someone else was here more recently. One of the Pricklers has visited here, not too long ago. His scent leads up into that tree. We want no arguments with one of them, do we? A few of you youngsters still have some sharp reminders of your last encounter with a Prickler. I know you’re all hungry, but let’s move on. There’ll be easier prey somewhere else. And keep your wits about you…no noise this time. My stomach needs filling tonight.”

So the pack drifted away like smoke, slowly disappearing into the night until the little valley was empty once more. Empty except for one frightened little Cat and a chance companion that had probably saved his life.

Hi, again and welcome.   I haven't been doing much writing.  I have a lot of rationalizations, but in truth I seem to have lost my confidence so I'm doing other creative projects ...some painting, even on tee shirts, (much fun)  some new and very frustrating knitting that involves lace.  My work involves more cursing and ripping out than actual knitting,  but eventually I shall conquer.
With that said I now present to you the Third Chapter of "SCAT, CAT!"   This little story was so much fun to write and I believe ....contrary to publishers...that it's fun for kids and all cat lovers.
                                               So....without further delay I give you...

Chapter Three: Questions and Answers

Hunter stopped on his journey and looked up at those same twinkling stars. The sky seemed enormous and very cold and cheerless. Now that he was alone again, Hunter realized just how much he missed his friend. A light misty rain began to fall and he decided to find a safe dry spot and try to sleep a little. Again, he dreamed of being warm and sheltered, with a family of his own.

When morning came, Hunter set off again after a very meager breakfast consisting of some unlucky beetles that were sharing his hiding place. Soon he could detect some tantalizing odors drifting on the air. Some were familiar: Cats and Big Ones and milk, but some eluded him. He couldn’t imagine what they were. Just a little further down the path, he came upon another white house with a very large building behind it. That was where all the curious odors were coming from. Hunter very carefully snuck up to the opening of the building and peeked in.

“How extraordinary! What are those odd, black and white animals chewing on that grass? They’re very big, but they don’t seem dangerous. I know there are Cats here, so it must be safe for me.” So, in he went. He hadn’t gotten very far when three very large, very scruffy Cats jumped in front of him, hissing and growling with menace.

“What do you think you’re doing here, little man? This place is ours and we certainly don’t need any more strays like you hanging around.” Hunter didn’t know what to do. He had never met Cats like these before and could feel the danger in the air. The three Cats started inching closer, their fur all bristly and their tails lashing. Just as Hunter was about to introduce himself and apologize, the Cats jumped, tumbling Hunter among the huge black and white animals.

“No! Stop!” he cried. “I’ll leave and never bother you again.” The strange Cats paid no attention and continued to scratch and yowl. The large animals became excited and their massive horny feet were bumping and thumping and very close to crushing poor Hunter. At last, he sensed an opening and giving the largest Cat a good hard cuff, he ran out the door, frantically searching for a place to hide. At last he was in the meadow and found a secluded spot under a thorn bush, where he curled up as small as he could. After a while he decided he should assess the damage. He began to straighten out his fur and noticed a scratch or two that needed licking. One of his eyes stung a bit, but the rest of him seemed fine.

“I’m glad my Mother didn’t see me run away like that but at least I did get in one good swipe and it WAS three against one.”

Just as he was beginning to calm down, he noticed movement in the grass and a fluffy white Cat came into sight. Hunter puffed himself up as big as possible and called out, “Leave me alone! I’m very dangerous! I’m leaving this place and I will never come back. You Cats must have eaten too much Catweed.”

The fluffy white Cat sat down beside the thornbush and began to wash her face. Then she looked at Hunter and smiled. “Don’t be afraid. I came to apologize.”

Hunter sniffed the air and decided it was safe to come out.

“Who are you and why would you want to apologize?”

“My name is Snow,” said the white Cat, “and I wanted to see if you were injured and help you, if I can. Those Cats in our barn behaved extremely badly, especially to one of the People. They were only brave because there were three of them. Separately, they are just mean bullies who think they can boss everyone around. I didn’t want you to think we were all like that.”

“Well,” huffed Hunter, “as you can see, I’m fine and I don’t see how you can help me, even if you want to.”

Snow made herself comfortable in the soft grass and studied the small black and white Cat.

“I see that you have been on a journey. Will you tell me who you are, and what you are seeking? Perhaps I can lend you the benefit of my experience to help you reach your goal.”

Hunter decided that Snow was sincerely trying to be helpful. He was so lonesome and tired of wandering that he was determined to trust her.

“Greetings to you, Snow. My name is Hunter and I apologize for my own bad manners, but I don’t know who I can trust anymore or where I am going next.” Hunter settled down in the grass next to the white Cat and began his tale. After he had told her the details of his story, Snow felt drawn to the little Catling and came over to Hunter’s side. She washed his dirty little face with her warm rough tongue and sang softly to him.

“You remind me of one of my own Kittens,” she purred, “too old to be washed by his Mother, but too young to be out in the world by himself. We definitely need to find you a home.”

Hunter was so happy to feel the warmth and comfort of another caring soul that he began to cry just a little, and finally to purr with gratitude. It felt so wonderful to have someone to share with again; he realized how much he missed Sharpclaw and even the cold companionship of the Big Ones.

“Indeed,” murmured Snow, “you have been through quite an ordeal. I’m afraid that your story is all too familiar. Some of the Big Ones can be very cruel and unthinking when it comes to the People that they have under their care. Even the Barkers sometimes share our fate, left on their own when they become an inconvenience or just aren’t cute and cuddly anymore.”

Hunter was surprised to hear this sad news from Snow and it only confused him more. “If the Big Ones don’t want us, why do they take us from our families in the first place?”

“Don’t despair, little Hunter. I don’t mean that all the Big Ones are this way. There are many of the Big Ones who love and cherish the People and treat them with all the respect they deserve.”

“Where are these loving Big Ones and how does a little black and white Hunter find them?”

Snow gazed thoughtfully into Hunter’s eyes and finally spoke. “Are you ready to travel far and wide, to be on your own, to try and try again until you find the place that will make you happy and content?”

“I must be ready, Snow. The weather is starting to change. I can feel it in my whiskers. Soon I must find a shelter of my own.”

“Yes. Soon the cold times will be here and the snow is very hard on the People. Very few can survive out on their own.”

“Excuse me, Snow, but I’m very bewildered. Your name is Snow and yet you talk of snow as if it were something to be afraid of. I don’t understand.”

“Oh yes, little one. I had forgotten that you haven’t yet seen the passing of twelve moons. You have never experienced snow or the cold times. It will not be many moons before they are here. Often when the cold times come, soft frosty flakes, like the covering of the Feathered Ones, start to fall from the sky. They are not as wet as rain, but much, much colder. Cold and sharp as teeth, they can be, when the wind comes from the Land of Ice. But it can also be soft and light, and even fun to play in…for a while. But as the cold times advance, so does the snow. Then it gathers itself all over the ground in piles, sometimes many times higher than the People. It is very dangerous to be caught in the snow, but it can also be very beautiful to look at. It is the same color as my fur, which is why the Big Ones named me Snow.”

“Oh, it sounds both wonderful and terrible at the same time, Snow. If the cold times are coming soon, then I must really hurry, but I am still afraid.” Hunter sat thinking about his future. Suddenly he jumped up and shouted, “ Wait! I just had a grand idea, Snow. Why don’t you come with me? Then you could find a home away from those mean bossy Cats and we could be happy and safe together.”

“Hunter, I could not possibly leave. My family is here and my little ones still need me. This is my home, for good or ill, and I am content. I know that a traveling companion makes the journey seem shorter, but this is a journey you must take alone. Also, it is much easier for ONE of the People to find a home than two. I will send my love with you, along with my advice. With care and courage you will be successful. Great Bast, the protector of all the People, will guard and guide you, but you must get started soon and there is much for me to tell you. Even though you will be alone again, it will only be for a little time. I know this in my heart. Somewhere, not too near, but not too far, there is a family waiting for someone exactly like you.”

“Your words make me sad and happy at the same time, Snow. If I must go alone, then teach me what I need to know quickly. It will be much easier to leave you if I leave soon.”

“Much of what you need to know you have already learned from Sharpclaw. Where you are going, there will be fewer friends, though you may find help in unexpected places. The houses of the Big Ones are farther apart and there will be enemies that you must avoid.”

“What kind of enemies, Snow? Are they worse than Barkers and strange Cats?”

“Some are like the Barkers, but move about in packs. Their speech is an eerie howling that will raise the fur on your neck. They love to prey on the People, so if you hear or scent the Howlers, you must take shelter immediately. Practice your tree climbing every day, for if they detect you, it will be your safest retreat. There is also a feathered enemy, large and silent that flies the nighttime sky. His eyes are round and luminous and his sight more keen than even that of the People. He mainly feeds on Squeakers and Hoppers and even Stripers, but you are not too big for his sharp claws. If you travel at night, keep to the cover of the bushes and trees. Often y ou will hear them calling to each other, a strange hooting sound. If you hear it, be wary and remember all your skills.”

“Snow, this seems like very bad news to a little Cat like me. I hope my skills will be enough, for I don’t know if I have enough courage.”

“You have more courage than you realize, little one. Few your age could have come this far at all. Remember, too, that many of your skills will come to you when you need them the most; passed down from many generations of the People. My blessings on you, Hunter. May your path be easy and your dream come true.”

“Thank you, Snow. Your kindness will always remain with me, along with your advice and the memory of your face. I will leave this evening, while I still have the heart to go.”

Snow gave him one final touch, nose to nose and turned to leave. As Hunter watched her disappear from his sight and from his life, he was determined not to cry. “I must not act like a foolish Kitten, but like the Hunter that I am becoming. I will make my Mother and Sharpclaw and Snow proud. And since I must leave, there is no time like the present; so they say.” Hunter sniffed the air and started toward the path, hopefully leading to a new and better life. As he trotted along, he sang a traveling song to make the hours seem shorter.

“Whiskers and paws, tail and claws,

They guide me on by day, meow!

Dark or light, dim or bright,

My eyes can find the way, meow!”

“Ears and nose, soft furry toes,

Help me as I roam, meow!

I sing my song. It won’t be long.

Till I will reach my home, meow!

Till I will reach my home!”

SCAT, CAT! Chapter 2

Hi folks.  I'm back after quite an absence.  Been busy with gardens and cats and crafts, oh my.
I will be sharing some photos of my projects at a later date, soon to be announced.  Kidding.
For now, I'd thought I'd share the 2nd chapter of "SCAT, CAT!"   It's a book about a lost kitty and

his search for a forever home.  Can be for kids or cat lovers of any age.  Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Two: Fear and Friendship

When he woke up, he was still in his box and daylight was not far away. Other creatures were beginning to stir: birds and bugs and other mysterious things, chirping, cheeping, chattering and chittering. After thinking about his predicament for a while Cat came to the sad conclusion that maybe the Big Ones were not coming back and that now he was on his own.

“On his own! How could that be?” It was so frightening that Cat could hardly think. “How can I be alone, and maybe even lost?” he cried. “Why didn’t the Big Ones take me with them? Didn’t they love me just a little bit? What am I supposed to do now?” His little heart was racing with fear and breaking with loneliness at the same time. All he could do was curl up in his little box and cry. After a while, when his sobs had turned to sniffles, he started to think about his Mother and a song she used to sing. It was a song about a very brave Cat, a very clever Cat, a Cat who was a hero. Cat knew his Mother would want him to try his best, so he decided that he would try to be brave too… well, at least a little brave.

“I guess a good first step would be to get myself out of this box.” So he began to push should let me out.” So he pushed some more and the top popped open. Cat peeked out of the box to see where he was. There was green grass all around and many tall bushes and trees. Off in the distance Cat saw a big white house.

“That’s where my house is,” he mewed. “I'm not lost at all. If I hurry, I might be there in time for breakfast.”

So Cat started his journey. It took him quite a while to reach the white house and his little feet were starting to hurt from all the stones along the hard path that led to the big white house. Just as he was starting to pad up to the house, a large furry Barker came rushing at him, yelping, “Get lost, Cat! This is my house!” Cat was terrified. He ran as fast as he could to the tall bushes to hide. The Barker seemed satisfied and went back to the white house and curled up in the sun.

Cat was very confused. He just couldn't imagine Hey You and Old Lady having a Barker in their house. They could barely take care of themselves, let alone a creature as helpless and slobbering as a Barker. “ Well, I guess this isn’t my house after all. Where will I go next? What should I do now?” He sat shivering in the bushes, feeling very sorry for himself and just a little hungry too. After some more thinking, he decided to keep traveling. Maybe HIS big, white house was just down the path.

So, off he went, humming his Mother’s song to keep his spirits up. Soon his growling stomach was louder than his humming. “I should find something to eat and definitely something to drink.” He saw some water in a puddle near the big hard path and hurried down to explore. “This water smells okay. I think it’s safe for a small cat like me.” As he was drinking, he noticed some creepy crawlers nearby and quickly pounced. “Well, it’s not real food, but it’s better than nothing.” After his snack he discovered that he felt a bit more hopeful and definitely had more energy. “I guess it’s time to get moving again.”

Just as Cat was about to step on the path, he heard a loud rumbling noise and thought, “That sounds like the noisy Rumbler I was in. Maybe it’s the Big Ones looking for me.” Out of nowhere a large, smelly, metal Rumbler came whizzing by, the rumbly noise and hot gust of wind knocking Cat head-over-heels. He picked himself up, shook off the dust and coughed out a few fumes. Now he was completely bewildered and a little scared too.

“Me-wow! Those Rumblers are very dangerous. I think they’re even more dangerous than Barkers.”

Suddenly, a voice came from some nearby weeds. “You better believe they’re dangerous, little fur ball. If I were you, I’d leave while I was still in one piece.”

“Who are you?” mewed Cat, “and my name is NOT Fur Ball!” Out from the grass came a large, yellow and white Cat. The Cat sat down across from the little waif and studied him with his big green eyes. Cat was simply amazed at the size and majesty of the newcomer and suddenly felt himself to be very small and insignificant, indeed.

“So, you’re not a fur ball. Then tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here, little stranger. This is my territory and you need my permission to stay.”

Cat bowed his head. He hoped the majestic Cat didn't notice his shivering shins. “Excuse me, sir,” he squeaked. “I am Cat and I...”

“Speak up, Catling! You are one of the People, a member of the proud and noble race of Felis and we bow to no one! Do not sit there and quiver like a Squeaker about to meet its end!”

Cat jumped and tried to clear his throat, which was difficult because it seemed his heart had taken up residence there. He closed his eyes and spoke at the top of his little cat voice. “Excuse me, Sir. I am Cat and I am lost and frightened. Please let me stay for a while. I need to learn about this strange new place and try to find my way home.”

“Well, Catling, at least you have some manners and know how to speak to your elders. My name is Sharpclaw, but my Big Ones call me Tiger; a silly name, but they mean well. You may stay if you wish and I will teach you the ways of the People. It’s clear that you are not familiar with our ways, so it will certainly take quite a bit of teaching. Be welcome in my domain and please be comfortable.”

Cat lowered his eyes. “Thank you, Sharpclaw. You are most kind.”

Sharpclaw circled around the newcomer and studied him with his sparkling green eyes and finally said, “I now name you ‘Hunter,’ for that is what you are, in more ways than one. Cat is not a real name and certainly not worthy of one of the People. In normal circumstances your naming would have been a wondrous ritual, a night of festivity, attended by your family, friends and neighbors. Your name would have been based upon a study of your eyes and fur, your habits and personality. The ceremony would be presided over by the Grand High Poohbah of Felidae, 'May his teeth be ever sharp.' but we must make do with what we have.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Sharpclaw. I will always be grateful for this honor. I knew that having a real name was important and now I actually have one! Hunter… yes, I like the sound of that very much.”

So for the next few weeks, the two Cats roamed together and Hunter learned many new things. He learned to hunt the furry Squeakers that ranged through the meadows and the feathered Flyers that swooped in the sky. To be honest, he was not always successful but his skills improved immensely. He learned which plants and bugs were good to eat and which ones to avoid. He learned how to find sweet water and to avoid the water that was foul. He learned how to outwit the Barkers and how to cross the hard path safely. He learned how to find safe places to sleep and dry places to shelter from the rain. Most of all, he learned self-reliance and the value of friendship. His only regret would come when Sharpclaw had to leave to return to his home and his family. Then Hunter would lie in hiding and watch his friend through the warm yellow windows, being petted and loved by the Big Ones. A strange longing would settle over Hunter. Even though he was learning to survive on his own, he still yearned for a family. Then he would fall asleep dreaming of what it would be like.

“Oh, to feel loved and welcome, with my very own family. What a marvelous thing that would be!”

One day, as the last rays of sunlight were bathing the meadow with golden light, the two Cats were sunning themselves in a grassy hollow and enjoying a peaceful moment of companionship. Sharpclaw turned to Hunter and said, “My friend, as much as I have delighted in our time together, I think you are now ready to continue your journey and fulfill your destiny.”

Hunter knew that Sharpclaw was right and nodded his head. “Yes, I must find my own way now. I promise I will never forget you or the lessons you have taught me.”

The older Cat stood and said, “Come, then. We will hunt together one last time.” The two Cats set off, tails twitching, for a rousing hunt and one final meal.

As darkness began to fall, they sang a Parting Song, each too proud to show his true feelings.

“May your claws be sharp and your eyes be clear,

To help you on your way.

For even though we may not be near,

We share this road today.”

“The time has come for us to part.

The Moon is rising high.

So as we stand here heart to heart,

We now must say Good-Bye.”

(Each verse must be followed by a mournful cry, perfectly described as caterwauling.)

As Hunter finally started down the path, Sharpclaw kept watch till the small black and white figure was long out of sight and the stars were twinkling in the sky.

A Frenzy of Butterflies

I know I've been afk for quite a while.  The outside world has been distracting me.
      Nature is bursting at the seams with new things to scrutinize.  Our Bluebirds have left the nest, but the Orioles are here, teasing me with their song..."Look at me.  Find me. Find me."  There are buds on my waterlilies and the miniature Irises are the same shade of yellow as the butter I put on my breakfast muffin.
     Butterflies...that was the subject.  I know we've all watched a butterfly carelessly drifting from flower to flower or seemingly blown by the wind over the lilacs and down again.  A few days ago the weather was just about perfect...sun, a bit of a breeze and mild, scented air.  I was inside, doing some mundane chore.  I may even have been lying on the couch staring at the television.  OK.  I admit it.  I like to nap in the afternoon.  I kept noticing something flying up from my flower bed and zooming away.  I began to watch more closely and great mother of mars, they were butterflies.  Hundreds, apparently emerging all at once.  They flew to the top of the windows and then rushed to the side yard.  They were flying with a purpose that astounded me.  I could hardly believe they were butterflies.  Finally one stopped to orient itself on the window.  It was indeed a small, brown and gray butterfly, plain and ordinary by butterfly standards, but butterfly nonetheless.  Suddenly it was gone like the rest.
     I went outside to find them but they were disappearing as hastily as they arrived but at last I knew their purpose.  Hundreds of mating dances were taking place in the air.  Spiraling bodies and flickering wings...nature again renewing herself.
     I felt somehow privileged to have seen these wonderful creatures, so determined, and driven by the urge to create something new.
      Now it's up to me...  to regain the purpose and determination  that I thought I had lost.  Unfortunately, like the butterflies I am used to seeing, the drifting, wafting ones,  I must try new things, restlessly moving from project to project.
     I need to remember the mission.

Taking some time off

Probably no one noticed but I haven't been doing much writing lately.   I'm in a mood.   I find the blank page a bit too intimidating at present.   Long story short...I'm taking a vacation from myself.   Going to try some new things, maybe revisit some old activities that I once enjoyed but have put aside.   Wtf?   I guess this isn't the first time I've bailed in the middle of a project but I will come back.  I know my characters will begin calling to me when I and they are ready.
I think I'll plant a tree!   Be creative and enjoy!

Gray day...gray thoughts

I know that this happens to every writer at some time, regardless of genre.   Let me add a bit of detail.

In the beginning when you first decide to write, your mind seems to explode with wonderful ideas.  Thoughts seem to roll down directly from your brain to your fingers.   Books seem to write themselves. Every idea is a brand new take on a theme...never before dreamed of by man nor beast.  These to me were the "I can do anything" years.  You say to yourself, "If Mary SoandSo  can be a success, why can't I?  You edit and edit and pass your manuscript around and around.  Family and friends are so encouraging..."Who knew you could write so well?"   Finally you think your book is ready.  Out comes the trusty Children's Book Market Guide and you search for the websites that are looking for exactly what you've written.
 Aha!    You've found the perfect publisher.  Out goes the manuscript with the  oh-so-clever letter  and the ubiquitous SASE.  Now, 10 years ago there would have been dozens of houses to choose from and you would have actually received a reply.  Granted, some would be form letters of rejection but precious others would include hand written notes from a "real editor" with encouraging bits of wisdom.  OK.  They still rejected your story but they thought you really had something of merit to offer the world of KidLit.
I remember...I actually framed my first rejection letter.  It was supposed to be something to chuckle over after my success.  Naivete has its own rewards.
So you mail and mail with no  results and after a few years you realize just how small the market is becoming.  Indie Houses have gone under or have been swallowed up by the Giants.  Fewer and fewer will publishers will accept un-agented material and the agents are even harder to query.  Most of the publishers will not have the courtesy to reply.  They're simply overwhelmed.  Every bored Mom or English major is sure they can write the next "Harry Potter."
You're still writing, of course, but much of your initial enthusiasm has drained away.  Any explosions in your head are now ones of doubt...doubt that your work has any value at all.   Do you have a unique "voice?"  What about branding and platforms?   Are you playing the Social Media game to your best advantage?   Very confusing and certainly not for the faint of heart.
Finally you must face what you believe.   Why do you write?
A.   I have to.  It's a passion.
B.   To sell books.
C.   To achieve fame and fortune.
If you didn't answer "A"  you may as well throw away your paper and pencil.   "B"  can happen in today's world of e-publishing but it won't be very satisfying and "C"...well...achieving fame and fortune writing for children is a difficult and maybe even questionable goal  and comes to only a few.
Know what?  Today is a gloomy depressing day with thoughts that match, but like any writer, you must have an ego (quite a large one) and perhaps the "sun'll come out tomorrow"  and along with it  hope and self confidence and more wonderful ideas. 
With that said I'll leave you with this.
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
                                                    Ralph Waldo Emerson