The Final Excuse ~ By Leah St. James #amwriting #blackcats

Looking back over my last several posts, I’m wondering why I haven’t offered readers some cheese to go with my “whine,” especially after I read Jannine’s Recipe for Success a few days ago that featured her talented and super-hard-working daughter (like mother, like daughter!).

Yes, it seems my recent posts have fallen into a bit of a pity-partying pattern of reasons–excuses–for my lack of writing productivity over the last couple years. For any newcomers, here’s a brief recap:

First there was the Year of the Wedding.
Okay, that was true, and a joyful event. No regrets.

But here, ranked in order of most influential, are the rest.
1. A crazy full-time job that sucks my time and energy.
2. Lack of focus
3. Followed closely by focusing on business during my “creative time”
4. Losing my writing voice (probably from lack of writing)

I think there was another one in there (overall fatigue maybe?), but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that except for having to work full-time for financial reasons, these are all fixable conditions, and they’re in my control to fix. But before I move on, I’d like to wrap up this unintended series with one final roadblock.

I almost hesitate after reading Chris’s heartbreaking post about losing her beloved cat Shikari, but I hope this will give her a chuckle and help her remember the fun times they shared

Because my fifth (sixth?) and final excuse is none other than HERCULES THE CAT.

It’s been some time since I’ve written about Hercules, who is fast approaching his second birthday, and he's even bigger than he was then. Son No. 1 describes him as a “30-pound brick.” (He might not actually be that heavy, but he sure feels it when he’s sprawled across half the bed in the middle of the night.) The Plot Master (TPM) has nicknamed him “Thunderfoot” for the thuds he makes when he jumps and lands on something. (On a positive note, we generally know where he is!) He runs down the stairs down in a two-legged gait, but not the usual two legs. Instead of left/right, he vaults down front/back, like a bunny rabbit!
 

Hercules will celebrate his second birthday on May 15!

He hasn’t been a cuddler since he outgrew my lap about 15 months ago, but he is a people cat. He rarely spends time alone, and will follow us from room to room. He loves playing tag, fetch and catch, and is quite the outfielder with miniature tennis balls!

Unfortunately, his favorite time to play is 4:30 a.m., which, as I recently discovered, is my “creative” time. This has resulted in a standoff between the two of us since I altered my morning routine.

Where previously I got up and exercised first thing–while he watched–now I get up and start to write (sitting on the couch in the blessedly quiet living room). This apparently bores him, so he starts wreaking havoc everywhere he can within my vision and earshot. 

He jumps on TPM’s sacrosanct (and overly neat) desk in the corner and starts swiping things onto the floor. Pens go flying, as do neatly stacked notebooks and folders. Once he actually got his claws on our checkbook and sent it tumbling into the narrow space between the desk and wall. (That was NOT a fun morning.) 

He's watching and waiting to make his move.

 
When he tires of the desk, he starts attacking what little artwork remains hanging on our walls (after we purged the walls of anything he could reach except for a few larger pieces I refuse to take down). Or he jumps on me.

In the tiny space next to the couch (where I'm sitting), poised to snag me!

This behavior goes on until TPM comes downstairs for the day to guard his desk and the artwork, but that’s a good 60 or 90 minutes of Hercules’ playfulness to work around. And usually by then he’s tired and ready for his first nap of the day.

After a few frustrating weeks of that, I moved to the dining room where the worst he can do is rip apart my printed outline and story notes while I’m trying to read them. Have I mentioned he eats paper and cardboard? Like a billy goat? He doesn’t actually swallow, just rips with his fangs and spits the pieces out. I think he likes the shredding noise. Maybe Son No. 1 should have called him Shredder instead of Hercules.

He is NOT liking this new setup.

So that’s where things stand now–an uneasy truce with me stationed each morning at the dining room table and Hercules waiting and watching for an opportunity to get some attention. I’m counting my blessings since I never know when he might find a new method of torture–I mean fun– to try! 


And I should mention, he's giving me some great material! In my current WIP, my heroine has a black cat named Romeo. I might need to give Romeo an expanded part!

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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil and the power of love–-that is, if Hercules lets her. She blogs here on the 6th and 22nd of each month. Learn more at leahstjames.com or visit her on Facebook.  

Witch's Familiar by Christine DePetrillo

I've been known to do witchy things. I love nature. I grow stuff. The moon fascinates me. I like spells and incantations. I believe in the power of intention. I wear crystals and stones when I need protection or healing or just an extra boost.

Maybe I own a cauldron...

And up until last month, I spent 18 years with the best black cat witch's familiar in the world.

This is Shikari. She passed away in April and there's a hole inside me. I know she was paired with me for specific reasons. Our souls were destined to cross paths. We gave things to each other that we couldn't get from anyone or anything else. We told each other secrets.

I miss her terribly.

From the first day we got her, she had such personality and buzzed with energy. The word "shikari" means hunter and she did slink around like a miniature panther, making prey out of leaves blowing in the wind, mouse toys filled with catnip, and coils of ribbon. We grew catmint in our back yard so she could roll around in kitty bliss during the summertime.

She was a talker too. She had meows that sounded like "mama," "now," "hello," and "no." You can call me crazy (you wouldn't be the first), but I have people who can back me up on her vocabulary skills. She always seemed to use those meows in the right context too.

The house is so quiet without her.

I come home from work, and though I have my dog and another cat to greet me, it's not the same as hearing Shikari meow "hello." She made us smile and laugh. Though she wasn't a cuddler, she'd pop onto my lap for a few minutes and do a quick check in, headbutting me and purring loudly.

In her later years, her health really declined and it took a great deal to keep her going, but she continued to wake up each morning and demand our attention.

Until her fire finally burned out.

And even then, she was considerate in how she left us. I had scheduled a vet appointment because it was clear that she was nearing the end of any brand of comfortable existence, but the decision plagued me. I felt such extreme guilt. Like... who was I to decide her fate? She rescued me from that guilt though by dying two days before the appointment. She actually waited for both my husband and I to come home from work. She allowed us several blessed moments to be with her and we literally watched her take her last breath. It was both heartbreaking and consoling. She was the first pet I ever owned and I felt her loss immediately, powerfully, but I also felt such relief that her suffering was over and that we hadn't had to actually put her down. She chose to leave. She'd done what she'd come here to do and would be bathed in peace now.

So I'm a witch without a familiar, but it was an honor to have owned (or perhaps be owned by) such an enchanting feline. If you ever get the chance to adopt a black cat, go for it. You won't be sorry.

You'll be bewitched.


Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Fear Not the Black Cat! By Leah St. James

I've enjoyed reading the various posts about autumn and Halloween-y topics over the past couple days, and as I contemplated what to write about, I thought what better Halloween creature to spotlight than the black cat.

As many might know, we share our home with Son No. 1 (a Ph.D. candidate working furiously on his dissertation) and his cat Hercules. Hercules came to us a little more than a year ago, a tiny ball of black fur. 
 

Hercules about 12 weeks. I don't think he can fit
on that table these days.

By the time he'd reached a year, he was about 15 pounds of mischief who evidenced no signs of maturing.

We are now almost at the 18-month mark, and the only change is that he's gotten bigger. Hercules is now a  hefty 17 pounds of mostly muscle, powerfully athletic and prone to pushing every button he knows to push for me and my husband. These days when we head to bed at night, we go armed with a water pistol for when Hercules pushes his way into our room in the wee hours and does his best to rouse us to play. (Yes, we can shut the door, but there's only so many scratches the door can take!) Of course then he spends the bulk of the next day taking as many cat-naps as he likes while we move zombie-like through our day.

Look at him, sleeping like a baby on the futon in my office
while I type away.

The history of the superstitions over black cats is fascinating. Most of us have heard the those about black cats crossing our paths....shiver. Or that black cats are familiars for witches. Even worse, some actually believed black cats were witches who had shape-shifted to wreak havoc. 

According to this blog on Historic Mysteries: "People believed that witches and black cats worked together. Supposedly, the devil sent the black cat to assist in the witch's evil deeds. Additionally, witches were able to turn themselves into black cats so that they could slink around in the shadows casting spells on unsuspecting people."

Okay, Hercules does slink about, but it's usually to catch an unsuspecting piece of fuzz floating around.

But it's not all bad news for Hercules and his black-furred friends. According to this article by Alison Yates on the website Ancient Superstitions, black cats especially are seen as good omens in Britain and Ireland,  bringing good luck. Yates says that black cats are also revered today by those who practice the Wiccan religion and their owners considered lucky. (Now if only Hercules would send some of that good luck our way....)


So if a black cat happens to cross your path while you're out trick-or-treating, fear not! He probably just wants to join the fun. Maybe he'll even guarantee and extra yummy candy haul.
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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil and the power of love. Read more about her writing at leahstjames.com, or visit her on Facebook which is where she mostly hangs out online. She loves meeting readers and other authors.