A Cat Tale

Bandit was your average midnight black cat.  Who use-to-sit by the neighbour’s hedge watching for birds.  When, one day the neighbour, Chuck, was pruning and  unintentionally sheered right through Bandit’s tail.

Bandit ran home and in through his cat door.  Blood was spewing everywhere, and you could hear him howling a mile away.  “Oh, my God, what has happened!”, Dolly, cried.  When she got to him, she was quite taken aback.

Chuck was frantically knocking on the back screen door, holding Bandit’s tail in his other hand.  “I am so sorry, Dolly.”, “I didn’t see him at the hedge.”, he said.  “It’s okay!”, Dolly, replied.  “He should of been in our yard!”, she consoled.

Needless-to-say, Bandit has a 3″ stub for a tail, and a hedge phobia.  Also, he has a way of getting attention.  On this one early summer’s morning, he had left Dolly a prize.

It was lying on the back porch, a little tea cup dog.  Dolly’s heart dropped, and she felt a deluge of panic.  She couldn’t speak at first.  Then, there was Bandit.  He was sitting so proud, and looking up at her.

What was she to say?  He’s a cat.

She let the panic go, and bent down to pick up the little dog.  It was stuffed!  It look’s so real, Dolly thought.  “Bandit, you are a cat!”,  she, said, in happy tears.  “Thank God, this is a toy!”, she added, feeling very relieved.

She could see Bandit laughing at her, she could see his wit.

Dolly, had to go and run an errand.  As she was passing Chuck’s house their five year old daughter Annie asked Dolly, “Have you seen my dog?”.

It took Dolly by surprise.  In another  wave of panic, “I didn’t know you had a dog.”,  suddenly, flew out of her mouth.  “His name is Bubble.”, “He’s a toy dog I got for Christmas.”, Annie, told Dolly.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll show up.”, Dolly, still spontaneous, but smiling, had added.  “Ya, I’m sure he will.”,  the little girl, agreed.  Then, they both just went back to what they were doing.

Getting home, Dolly still had the wool over her eyes, and she couldn’t think from the flows of panic.

Bandit had left the toy dog on the counter where Dolly had put it.

Through her defeat, she said, “I’m  going to have to sleep on this Bandit.”.  Tired from the day, Dolly and Bandit both went to bed.

Bandit could see Dolly eyes rapidly tossing back and forth.  She was having a nightmare about Annie.  Annie was viciously waving a big stick.   She was also crying and screaming, “I know you have my dog!”, “I know your cat Bandit took my dog!”.  Dolly’s eyes suddenly jumped open.  Bandit, he jumped off the bed, and looked up at Dolly.

Frightened, Dolly sat up and said,  “You have to bring the dog back Bandit!”.  Afterwards, Dolly was thinking of a plan, and fell back into her sleep.

In the morning when Dolly opened her office shutters for some light she saw the toy dog on Annie’s back porch.  Bandit brought it back.  This was Dolly’s cognition, which had really astonished Dolly.  It really was quite remarkable.

With Bandit becoming somewhat of an insomniac and Dolly’s recurring fears, they stayed pretty close for a couple days enjoying some family movies…

The end




Cold in July

Stepping outside, the cooler air had taken me by surprise.  I quickly grabbed my jacket.  Which, turned out to besketch-grim-future-landscape-tree-art-95326382 more necessary than I originally thought.  Naturally, harvest came to mind.  God knows how many small apples I’ve had to eat.  This wit also conjured a smile.  The cloud cover was portraying that dismal look and there was a hint of despair.  I’ve been more sensitive to the cold because of violence, desperation.  It was when I realized that God always saves me before death that I relaxed.  As the morning turned into afternoon, the wool went over my eyes, and into the darkness I went.  When I snapped out of it, they were back into my consciousness.  Where they intentionally stare.


I am hoping to deliver information in different ways.  I will be presenting articles, chronicles, poems, simple one sentence messages, and some creative writing paragraphs.  Cold in July, my next post, is a chronical.

Writing tidbits come in different flavours, causing reality bites…