d.: Cal.E. I did NOT know you were a writer, like me. C.: What are you talking about, d.c? d.: I found your journal. It looks like you were going to try to make a book out of your journal entries. C.: I let you read that when we first started working together, don't you remember? d.: NO, Cal.E. I don't. I don't think that most of our readers do, either. I would like for them to see what a talented writer you are! May I please show our readers at least one journal entry of yours? C.: Okay, sure. I have not finished writing my story yet, because of my unfortunate incarceration in the "rehab facility." They will not let you have sharp objects, such as pens and pencils when you are "inside," so I never finished writing it. Maybe now, I can continue my story, since I have "kicked" the catnip habit. d.: I will help you as much as I am able. I do like your style. It looks very familiar to me. C.: Okay, I would appreciate the help, d.c. "It all started when I was a small orphan kitten living on the mean streets of the Third Ward in Houston, Texas..." d.: I did NOT see that entry, Cal.E. Why don't we just stick to the script? C.: Well, okay. Here it is. Remember, I AM a cat. I may not be as good of a writer as you are, d.c., but this is just a rough draft, anyway. Go ahead and share what I have written of "The Kennel" with our readers.
"THE KENNEL" by Cal.E. Kat (with d.c. scot)
The Kennel is dedicated to the memory of Cal. E. Kat; the most patient cat that ever lived, and my family’s all-time favorite pet. INCEPTION SUPREME COMMANDER OF THE UNIVERSE LOG
The twenty-first century, somewhere in Texas (that’s close enough for a cat): Observations of Calculating Einstein (CAL.E.) Kat.
Oh, hi, I did not see you there. Let me get into a better position to make my observations. I’ll just climb up on this thing, the center of the human universe (what’s it called?) oh, yes, a refrigerator. I know that it is the demigod that the simpleton humans worship because they check and make sure that it is well satisfied with its sacrifices constantly. If it is displeased with a sacrifice, the humans take it out and burn it on an open flame. Either that, or they burn the sacrifice from the demigod (since it is white, and we are in Texas, I will refer to it as Blanco from now on) in something called a microwave. It is more efficient, I think, than the open flame. To make sure that Blanco is not displeased with them, the humans then eat the sacrifice. When Blanco has little or no sacrifices that please him the humans go to something called a grocery store and buy more sacrifices. They then put the sacrifices into Blanco’s belly as quickly as possible so as not to displease him. He has some competition now, though. Almost all humans have a small idol they walk around with called a “cell phone.” They do whatever it tells them to do. Humans are simple beings. That language they speak is a little confusing (what is it called?) Oh, yes “English.” Very confusing. For instance, the word hear. It can mean discerning a sound with one’s ears, or it can mean a destination or a place. As in “come here.” Usually followed by the word “now.” The word that implies immediacy (yeah, that’s not a cat thing). Well, my humans are well trained by now. They feed me without being asked and change my litter box on a regular basis. It is hard to get in all that I need to do in a mere four hours a day, though. Twenty hours a day is just NOT enough sleep, and I must help Mom and Dad with the foster animals. They come from a place called "The Pound.” That is where Big Red rescued me from in my first life. That was decades ago (or was it eons? I am not sure). Big Red went to college and left me here with Mom, Dad, Blue Eyes, and Curly. Curly is the only kid who still lives here now, however. I think Mom and Dad rescued them from the human pound. They were not born here. They fit in well, though. Blue Eyes is off “keeping the world safe” now, according to Dad. Probably from dogs. They ARE annoying. Especially that one. His name is Boudreaux the Beagle Mix, a.k.a. Buddy Bones, the Baddest Dog in all of Texas. He bit ten mailmen in one day. He was very fast, as most Beagles are. They never would have caught him if he had not run headlong into that parked car (Beagles are NOT very bright, though). Biting the ten mailmen is why he must wear that ridiculous mailman’s costume all day. It is to remind him of what he did. He was in the kennel 23 hours a day for punishment until recently. Mom and Dad would only let him out of his cage for one hour a day to get exercise and to eat. I guess that he is doing better now. He is here on a permanent basis, from what I understand. Oh, well, we all must live somewhere. At least most of the animals go back to the shelter and find another permanent home. That is why Mom and Dad keep them for a while, until they find their forever home, like I did (but I am getting ahead of myself). To tell you the whole story, so that YOU can figure out why (oh why) Mom and Dad foster animals, I must go back decades (or is it eons? I am not sure). As I said, the story actually begins eons ago…. Tune in tomorrow for chapter one; The Hairless Human Foster Kittens
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