Wednesday, October 29, 2014

All In a Day's Work

Today is National Cat Day.

I don't have a cat. I don't want a cat. But cats seem to like me. I don't have problems with cats. I kind of think they're like superheros because they kill rats and their cousins. I don't like those.

So here's a short story I wrote for a children's literature class I took in college. Got an A on it.  Tilly, by the way, makes an appearance in my book Thimble Fingers which you can buy at an Amazon near you.

 All In a Day's Work
by Anna Maria Junus

Marjorie leapt up on the fence that stood between her people’s property and that of the neighbors. She stretched her feline body and yawned. Any minute the neighbor’s dog would come bursting through the back door.
And  sure enough, there was Tilly, the Scottish terrier. Dressed in a red tartan coat – silly, Marjorie thought – and yapping at her feet like Tilly always did.
Marjorie watched Tilly jump up and down like kids do on trampolines, in an effort to reach her. What Tilly planned to do with her if she caught her, Marjorie didn’t know, not that that would ever happen. Marjorie would make sure of that. She turned her back on the dog, sat down, and flicked her tail back and forth, like a clock pendulum, smiling as Tilly went into a bout of more frenzied barking.
She picked her way carefully across the fence, the dog following along, jumping and yapping, not paying attention to anything but Marjorie. The cat moved alongside the holly bush, and watched in satisfaction as Tilly jumped into the middle of it.
Marjorie chuckled as Tilly yelped, fighting her way out of the midst of the sharp leaves. The more Tilly struggled, the deeper she went into the bush. Her yelping and whining ceased to amuse Marjorie and instead grew irritating. Marjorie jumped down from the fence and made her way across the alley to Oscar’s house.
Oscar, a gray tabby, was on his back porch attached to the railing by a leash.
“Go away, Marjorie,” Oscar snarled.
“Make me,” Marjorie meowed. “Oh, wait, you can’t. You’re all tied up. You know, someone in your position should be grateful for a little company.”
“Find me some company, and I’ll be grateful for it.”
“The mice have been teasing you again, haven’t they?” Standing just outside of your reach and wiggling their little butts at you.” Marjorie jumped up on the porch rail knowing that Oscar wouldn’t follow.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It must be hard knowing that you are a completely useless member of society. Can’t keep the mice under control. Can’t scare the dogs away. In fact, you’re bait to the Doberman Pincher.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Has that ear of yours healed yet?”
“You’ve had your share of fights.”
“Yes, but I did more damage to them than they did to me, and I didn’t need anyone’s help.”
“I said thank you. Wasn’t that enough?”
Marjorie sighed. “I guess it will have to be, since you can’t do anything else.”
Oscar lay down on the step and closed his eyes. “You’ve had your fun, now go torture something else. Like Tilly.”
“Already did that.”
“So that yelping was because of you?”
“I can’t help it if that dog has the I.Q. of a tuna. Do you want to know what I did?”
“No, I don’t. Now go away,” Oscar growled.
“You’re sounding like an old cat, Oscar. Pretty soon they’ll put a diaper on you like they did to Patches.”
“I’ll kill myself first. I could do it you know.” Oscar rolled over and looked up at Marjorie. “All I have to do is jump up there and then down the other side. The leash will strangle me – and then they’ll be sorry.” The last was muttered under his breath.
“Would they really be sorry? Because I’m not so sure that people who tie you up and humiliate you in front of the whole world...”
“It’s not the whole world. Just go away, Marj.”
Marjorie jumped down from the porch railing. “What shall I do, what shall I do? I know. I’ll go catch me some nice fat mice. You don’t get to have nice fat mice, do you Oscar? You just get kibble.”
Oscar covered his ears with his paws. “I ask, and I ask, and I ask, and still, she won’t leave.”
Marjorie turned and stuck her tail up in the air. “Yep. I’m going to get me some nice fat mice, and maybe I’ll come back with one and you can watch me enjoy it.”
“Please go away.”
Marjorie chuckled and stalked away swaying just a little from side to side, a purr rising from her body.


By the way, count down to the end of the Ultimate Blog Challange. Two more days and I win. What I win, I don't know. But that isn't the point.


Alice Gerard said...

Oh yay, national cat day. Zoe is sitting on a chair, not doing much of anything. She doesn't even go after the mice. They run around the house and Zoe ignores them. Or she meows at them. The mice don't care that she is meowing.
Love the story, very entertaining.

Anna Maria Junus said...

You tell that Zoey that she has to earn her keep. Jeesh.

Thanks for the comment. Glad you liked it.

Unknown said...

How cute. I have a cat, a beautiful blue cream one that we adopted from the shelter 5 years ago, named Harlow. She is the most friendly cat we've ever had and comes when you call her and loves to do tricks. Nice story. Keep up the great work....we are closing in on the end of our monthlong project. ;)