Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I had a dream last night. I was standing on a podium and they were putting the gold medal around my neck for snowboarding. Go figure. This cat who lived most of his life in Florida is dreaming about winning medals for snow activities.
It was a very real dream. I had one of those outfits, complete with goggles and helmet, gloves, and a nice blue parka to wear when I wasn't on the move. I was the epitome of grace and athleticism. I mean I flew on my snowboard and remained in the air forever.
Maybe my mystery story got me started thinking about flying. I don't think I really want to be a bird. But the guys in Vancouver are really cool and I guess that's the part I want. No more landing in bushes. I would rather land to the cheers of the crowd.
What's your dream?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Episode 3: When we last stopped in on our story, Max had inadvertently jumped from the second story landing to escape an intruder....
Max looked down at the backyard, but the sight of it flying toward him made his stomach turn. He closed his eyes and hoped for the best -- or at least he hoped for a little less than complete disaster.
Before he knew it, Max hit something semi-soft then bounced about for what seemed like a full two minutes. After he realized he wasn't moving any more, he thought he might be dead because he didn't feel the pain he expected.
Slowly he opened one eye and saw the blossoms of a blue hydrangea staring back at him. "Yep!" he thought, "dead, for sure." Then, he opened the other eye and looked up. There on the landing was the prowler/burglar/murderer.
In that instant, Max realized he had survived his fall from the second story landing. Now it was up to him to save HH from the intruder.
On his back, folded up like a tulip he was sunk down in the hydrangea. Every movement made him sink deeper into the bush. In frustration, he thrashed frantically to get out and the whirling movment of his legs helped him rise to the surface of the bush as if he were pulled up by a helicoptor.
Once past all the blue blooms that had cushioned his fall, Max leapt from the bush. The ground felt good and solid under his feet. He gave a good shake to clear his senses and took off like an Indy race car driver with a mission.
Max reached the stairs in the split of a split second and sped up them so fast he hardly knew his feet had touched any of them. At the top of the steps, he bounded to the railing then onto the ski-masked head of the hoodlum. He covered the man's head like a football helmet and hung on for dear life. No way this creep was going to get HH...
Posted by HH and The Boys at 12:01 PM
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Oh my goodness, Critter Pals. I didn't realize that I had left my Valentine to you up for so long. We've been under a pile of papers here. HH has been proofing her book. She always says, "Just one more time. Don't want any mistakes."
I say, "Enuf, already. Turn it in and move on to working on the book about me."
Finally, today she took my advice and the book is turned in. It's a book about Twitter...how to get up and going, and HH should have one in her hot little hands soon. Very exciting.
Anyway, things should return to normal now... whatever that is. And I'll return to my regular tweets and telling you bits and pieces about my story. After all, last time I wrote about it I was flying through the air. Watch in the next day or two for the next little bit of that story.
I've missed the regular communication. I think I can safely say that I'm back with you, critter pals. Have a great day and stay warm.
Posted by HH and The Boys at 4:20 PM
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
You asked for it, so here is more of my mystery novel starring (who else) ... ME! As you remember from our last episode, I had just stuck my head out the cat door from the apartment I share with my food human (Her Highness) when I caught movement and the glint of something shiny...
If Max lived in a regular house where the door was on the first floor, his inclination would have been to scoot straight ahead at lightening speed. No robber or murderer would even be able to identify him as a cat because he'd run into the bushes before they realized what was happening.
But, alas, Max and HH lived on the second floor above Writer's Creative Studio, HH's office and business. Max's door to the enclosed backyard went out onto a landing on the second floor - a set of stairs to his right his only way to the ground below.
During ordinary circumstance Max would merely walk through his cat door, turn and happily skip down the stairs. However, that night his usual route was not an option.
In a split second, Max had to decide what to do in order to evade the
nefarious interloper. Instinct took over; and for better or worse, he ran
straight ahead in a flash. Unfortunately, he discovered the error of his
thinking too late.
Whooooooooooosh! Max flew off the landing and found himself airborne, praying that the saying, "Cats land on their feet" held true ...