TALKING ABOUT MY WRITING BUDDY --

Some of you know about our cat, Jazie Miles Davis, also known as Bad Puss. He is sitting beside me now, purring and pawing me so I scratch him. It wouldn't be so bad if he enjoyed having his head rubbed or an occasional scratch behind the ears, but he likes his rump scratched. Now tell me, how can I write serious fiction when a  spoiled tabby backs up to me and points to his bumm with a furry paw? I'm telling you, it can't be done.

Jazie was nearly grown when we got him. He belonged to a friend of a friend, who no longer wanted him. Calvin insisited he go to the vet before we brought him home. Once the vet declared him healthy and free from ear mites and fleas, we brought him to his new abode, or would that be castle? Two weeks later we had him neutered, and he still hasn't forgiven Calvin for carrying him in for the proceedure.

He's added a lot to our household. There's just something soothing about a cat's purr. Or comical about the way a cat sees his universe. If one of the cats who roams our neighborhood has the audacity to step onto our back patio and look in our French doors, Jazie growls and makes a lip smaking sound. If he happens to be napping elsewhere when the visitor appears, all I have to say is, "I see the kitty-kitty," and Jazie comes barreling out, skidding to a stop at the doors, ready to do battle. To protect his turf and feed bowl.

Dare I mention the monster that lives in the DVD player? Everytime the door opens, Jazie is there, batting at it. One of these days he's going to slay that Drawer-Monster!

Jazie loves to play catch. I wave his toy around and then toss it. He scurries across the floor, feet skittering as he skids to a halt at the toy. He picks it up in his mouth and returns it to my feet. He looks up at me, which is my cue to pet him and say, "Good boy." And then throw it again.

I spend a lot of writing hours in my recliner, writing on my laptop. Jazie curls up beside my legs and sleeps. When an empty tummy disturbs his feline slumber, he moves to the armrest, where he places one paw on my cheek as if to say, "Hey! Fill my feed bowl, oh, lowly servant." If I ignore him, he allows one claw to poke out on his paw and he gently biffs me on the end of my nose for a treat. Calvin has him on a diet, though, and Bad Puss is not too happy there are no treats to be had. For a while his tummy swayed from side-to-side when he ran, and we were concerned about his expanding waistline.

I would not want to imply that Jazie is spoiled, but he does have his own Twitter account with forty-eight followers. The bad thing is I think he's been on Twitter begging for people to send him treats. Strange packages arrive here from time-to-time addressed to him. You can follow him @JazieMilesDavis. But under NO condition should you send him treats. He's still got a caseful sent here by SparkleCat. I bet if SparkleCat knew Jazie was neutered, she wouldn't be so sparkly! The hussy.

What about you? Do you have pets with attitude?

Christmas Wonderland Effect

I'd planned on putting out the Christmas decorations on December 1st. My back, however, had other plans. So until the spasms die down enough that I can bend without dropping to my knees, the plastic containers of decorations remain stacked along the garage wall.

Another problem is Jazzy Miles Davis, our much-loved tabby cat. By nature, cats are drawn to trees. Certain tree ornaments intrigue their inquisitive natures. Our kitty-puss is no exception. He just has to touch and bat and sniff and capture those pesky ornaments that hang from our tree. Isn't that what they're for, after all?

True, Jazzie looked adorable last year, peeking out from his perch halfway up the tree, partially hidden by the branches of our artificial pine. But that was twelve months and seven pounds of kitty treats ago. I'm not sure our spindly tree can hold him this year. He's a big kitty, not huge, mind you, but his belly does sway from side-to-side when he runs. Decorating this Christmas might entail some creative positioning fo the tree.

Even so, I'm eager to drag out my large snowmen collection. I love their cute little faces, the expressions they have. Some were gifts from girlfriends no longer with us. I fondly think of that sweet person every Christmas season as I lovingly handle a snowman she gave me. Thank God for the gift of memories. And thank God for the true Gift of the Christmas holiday--the holy Gift that keeps on giving--and saving.