This week I am delighted to welcome guest writer, M.J. SCOTT to my monthly column on the animals in our lives. Writers lead essentially solitary lives and animals, great and small, play an enormous role in all aspects of our lives. Alison
Over to M.J.....
I've
had cats on and off all my life. When I went off to university and did the
rounds of the usual share housing/moving around/no pets allowed, I was without a feline for a few years. But then, I started work and decided it was time
for another cat. Two cats in fact. So off to the shelter we went and a
tiny grey fluffy kitten and an equally tiny black and white kitten came home
with us. All was good for a few months. Then the tiny black and
white kitten got sick. Feline Leukaemia, which older cats could often
live with for a few years, but tiny kittens, not so much. Which left us
with just the grey cat (and a worrying few months while we waiting to see if
she had also caught the disease).
Putting
our heads together, we decided that this time, we'd try a purebred (using the
logic that they should be healthier). So with gay abandon, we decided on a
burmese (I blame too many Doreen Tovey books as a child which left me with a
fascination for oriental cats) and acquired a teeny red (okay, pale orange) boy
to go with the grey girl.
Teeny
he might have been but his voice wasn't. Nor was his personality. The
orange cat was firmly convinced that he ruled the roost and that the humans
should just play along. And when he didn't get what he wanted, he complained
about it. Loudly. Just as well he was very sweet and loving in all other
ways, otherwise he may not have made it out of kittenhood. Chatty cats
during the day are one thing but loud burmese wailing at 4am is not so cute.
Sadly, that was a habit he never grew out of (nor would he sleep nicely with
the humans). We tried various methods but never could find something that would
convince him to be quiet.
When he
wasn't yowling, he was off having adventures (or sucking up to the two nice old
ladies next door so that they would feed him and give him his proper doses of
adoration when we were out). Unfortunately, despite being beautiful and
vocally adept, he wasn't the smartest cat in the world. So his adventures
often ended in drama. He managed to dislocate his tail (twice), get into
the odd fight (due to thinking he was far tougher than he was) and to top it
all off, managed to sustain major ligament damage to both back legs in separate
incidents (most likely, according to the vet, falling off things). I shall not
go into how much ACL surgery for cats costs or the joys of six weeks post
operative confinement. He broke a tooth, regularly lost claws and
delighted in pouncing on the grey cat when she didn't want to be pounced
on. She was too much of a lady to ever give him the swatting he deserved.
He went missing one night and I eventually tracked him to a neighbour's garage
when he eventually worked out yelling for help might be a good idea. Still, he
was the most loving cat I've had, wanting most of all to be with me, sitting on
my shoulder or my lap and purring away loudly while I patted him. Burmese fur
feels like silk over rock hard muscle. Very soothing. Probably another
survival adaptation.
Sixteen
years he purred for me and loved me and entertained me. And I loved him. The
house felt way too quiet the day he finally succumbed to kidney disease. It
still feels too quiet sometimes, even though two new cats are purring for me
and competing for lap time. The orange cat was an original and I hope
he's waiting for me, over there wherever it may be. And that the over there
version comes with volume control.
Thanks for being my guest, M.J. I have lived with a Burmese (in my days of share houses) and they are great characters. You must miss him! Alison
Imagine a city divided. A city where human and Fae magic rests uneasily next to the vampire Blood and the shapeshifting Beasts. A city where a fragile peace is brokered by a treaty that set the laws for all four races…a treaty that is faltering day by day.
I didn’t plan on becoming a thief and a spy. But options are limited for the half-breed daughter of a Fae lord. My father abandoned me but at least I inherited some of his magic, and my skills with charms and glamours mean that few are as good at uncovering secrets others wish to hide. Right now the city has many secrets. And those who seek them pay so well…
I never expected to stumble across a Templar Knight in my part of the city. Guy DuCaine is sworn to duty and honor and loyalty—all the things I’m not. I may have aroused more than his suspicion but he belongs to the Order and the human world. So when treachery and violence spill threaten both our worlds, learning to trust each other might be the only thing that saves us.
But even if a spy and a holy knight can work together, finding the key to peace is never going to be easy…
