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Unread 12-04-2008   #1 (permalink)
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Post Stories

Have you got a true life or fictional story you are dying to tell? Post it here on the Stories page! IT can be about cats or not, it can be fictional or not, but we will certinley not call it 'Roast Chicken and Other Stories'....
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Unread 12-04-2008   #2 (permalink)
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Oh, sorry dear but not me. I'm not a writer like you are & don't have so much imagination, so next time maybe.

By the way, I loooooved your below quote!!!!
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Unread 12-04-2008   #3 (permalink)
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Post The Christmas Cats by Rosie

Jenny was 11 years old. Jenny had medium length ginger hair and deep green eyes. Jenny lived with her older brother, Leroy, who was 17 years old and her mum, Lisa. Jenny had a cat called Mini, short for Emanuele. Mini was a tortoise shell brown tabby cat, but Mini wasn't the young cat she used to be.
Christy Jones, the old lady who lived next door, was very fond of Jenny and she often invited her around for tea and cake. Christy had two cats of her own, and brown and white Siamese called Pimpernel Pugh (Pim for short) and a grey and brown tabby named Mushroom Magee. Mushroom was much loved by Jenny too mainly because Mushroom had a big, soft, fluffy tail.
It was a week before Christmas and Jenny had already eaten 14 chocolates from her advent calender and was bursting for Christmas.
"Jenny! Come in for some tea!" Christy was shouting to Jenny over the wall to the front garden where Jenny sat.
Jenny rushed right over and greeted Christy and her cats.
"I have an early Christmas present and I want you to open it as soon as you get home," said Christy. "On Christmas day it will be too late." Christy handed Jenny a beautiful white box with a prime blue ribbon tied neatly over the box.
Jenny nodded and returned home. With no hesitation Jenny un-wrapped the ribbon and car fully lifted the lid of the box. Jenny peered in side. A little grey ball sat in the middle of the box covered in towels and cushions. The ball un raveled itself and two yellow eyes stared at her. It was a kitten! A small grey kitten! It was so grey and so young, it looked as though it had just been born. The little kitten had a tag around it's neck. The tag read, 'dear Jenny, have fun with your new friend. Merry Xmas! Love Christy Jones'. A sequel of excitement churned in Jenny's throat. Jenny lifted the kitten out of the box and cuddled it tight. "I'm going to name you...Greywacke Jones," she whispered.

Christmas was here! A shallow layer of snow lay gently on the ground. Little Greywacke was now old enough to go outside on his own. He rolled playfully on the snow and clawed the frosty air. Around him was noise of children and snow plows. This was all new to him but it was although he had heard it all before. Greywacke had already met Pim and Mushroom and they had become good friends.
"Psst!". Greywacke shook his head and sat up. "Psst!". The noise came again. "Psst! Over here!". Greywacke looked around. Then he saw Pim behind a bush and waving a paw to him. "Come!" she called. Greywacke followed Pim into the bush and into Christy's back garden.
"Greywacke," a bunch of older cats were sitting in the garden. Natalie, from down the road's, cat, Butterball Brown, was swinging on a rickety door. Josh's cats, Slinky Malinki, was sitting in a drum full of weed's. Mushroom Magee was lying calmly on the window-sill ledge and Pim had hoped up onto a wall. All the cats looked at Greywacke.
"This is Greywacke Jones, everybody!" meowed Pim.
"Why is he here? He's not old enough! He's just a kitten!" hissed Slinky.
"He's here to help us," replied Pim. "Our annual Christmas Mission."
"Huh?" Greywacke was confused.
"Every year all the dogs in the street get all the doggo presents and we get -" said Butterball.
"- nothing," said a dull voice. "We are NOT going to be humiliated this time." It was Scarface Claw. The toughest tom in town. Scarface plodded up ti Greywacke hissing at any cat that looked him in the eye. "Whats your proposition, kid?"
"Um...I..." stuttered Greywacke.
Scarface just whistled and walked away behind a bush.
"What was that all about?" squeaked Greaywacke.
"That's Scarface Claw. He's a mysterious cat. No-one knows who is owner is or where he lives. But please kid enjoy it while you can," said Mushroom with no smile.
"Please," asked Butterball. "Can we skip our ACDCT?"
"They what?" asked Greywacke.
"The," answered Pim. "Annual Christmas Dog Catching Trip, sometimes now as the ACCIDENT."
Then Mushroom slowly said, "we will see..."

To be continued...
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Unread 12-04-2008   #4 (permalink)
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Oh Rosie, you're a master, congrats!
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Unread 12-05-2008   #5 (permalink)
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Post The Christmas Cats: Continued...

Whilst the group of cats, known as The Dog Slayers, discussed the 'is it going to happen this year or not' matter, Greywacke sat on his own at the bottom of the wall.
"Ha, ha! Good one!" laughed Slinky to the other cats while creeping up to Greywacke. "Hey, kiddo. Why ya crying?"
"It's...just...c-cuz...I do wanna do...this," sobbed Greywacke.
Slinky Malinki was not prepared to let this happen. "This isn't right. We can't send a kitten into battle," then Slinky turned to the rest of the cats. They were all ears. "Why are we fighting them!?"
"They're dogs! Our motto is 'cats rule and dogs drool'!" hissed one of the group.
"We will stay in this Christmas we will sit under the Christmas tree and be part of the family!" meowed Slinky. "The only reason we do not get the attention we deserve is because we stay out on Christmas we are too busy destroying the dogs!"
The Dog Slayers muttered amongst themselves agreeing about the situation. They finally saluted (which was 'all tails in the middle') and made their ways home.
Little Greywacke Jones returned home and wailed by the fire.
"Greywacke," said Jenny crouching down to comfort the little kitty. "What is the matter?" Greywacke stared up at her with his beadiest eyes. "Listen," Jenny crawled behind the Christmas tree and when she came back out, she was carrying a little box, about the same size of the one Greywacke came in and set it down in front of him. Greywacke wailed once more. He thought he was going back to the place he came from; a cold, dark, sad place. Jenny lifted the box lid and pulled up something so shiny, something that couldn't compare to a thousand suns. It was a sky blue colour and a little tag on it read, 'my name is Greywacke Jones. If I am lost please phone Jenny Cross on 974382'. A slight sparkle came to Greywacke's eyes. "It's your very own...cat collar!" exclaimed Jenny. She tied it round Greywacke's neck. And Greywacke paraded around the house very proud of his Christmas gift.

The next day, all the cats had another meeting.
"We will now rename ourselves 'The Happy Cats Club'!" purred Pim. All the cats cheered. "Now, let us see our Christmas gifts!".
Pimpernel Pugh was patting her brand new circus ball! Mushroom Magee had a new blanket to sleep on. Slinky Malinki had a toy mouse that reacted to light so when light shone on it, it would move! Butterball Brown was given a whole bag of catnip to roll around in!
"What have you got, Greywacke?" asked Pim. They started at Greywacke. "Greywacke's got a new collar!" squealed Pim.
All eyes were on Greywacke, and Greywacke Jones was thinking, 'this has been a beautiful Christmas!'.
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Unread 12-05-2008   #6 (permalink)
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Thumbs up

Applauses for you Rosie!
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Unread 12-06-2008   #7 (permalink)
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Post Marley: A Dog Like No Other by John Grogan

This is an extract from a true-life book I'm reading, and the blurb says, 'meet Marley, a yellow furball of a puppy who quickly grows into a large, rowdy Labrador retriever. Marley is always getting into trouble; you could say he's the world's worst dog! But for those who love him he's a dog like no other; brining joy to his family, as he bounds through life teaching them about what really matters. In the author's own words, here is the heartwarming and unforgettable story of the world's most loveable and exuberant dog!' This is a true story!

Chapter 3: Mr Wiggles


For the next three days I threw myself into taking care of our new puppy. I lay on the floor with him and let him scamper all over me. I wrestled with him. I used an old hand towel to play tug-of-war with him. Boy, was he strong! He followed me everywhere - and tried to gnaw on anything he could get his teeth around.
It took Marley just one day to discover the best thing about his new home - toilet paper. Five seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom, he came racing back out. As he sprinted across the house with the end of the toilet-paper roll clenched in his teeth, a paper ribbon unrolled behind him. The place looked like it had been decorated for Halloween.
Every half hour or so I would lead him into the backyard to pee or poop. When he had accidents in the house, I scolded him. When he peed outside, I placed my cheek against his and praised him in my sweetest voice. And when he pooped outside, I carried on as though we'd just won the lottery.
When Jenny returned from Disney World, she threw herself into him with the same utter abandon. It was amazing. As the days unfolded I saw in my young wife a gentle motherly side I had not known existed. She held him. She petted him. She played with him. She fussed over him. She combed through every strand of his fur in search of fleas and ticks. She rose every couple of hours through the night - night after night - to take him outside for bathroom breaks.
Mostly Jenny fed him.
Following the instructions on the bag, we gave Marley three large bowls of puppy chow a day. He wolfed down every morsel in a matter of seconds. Marley's appetite was huge, and his poop was huger still. The giant mounds that came out looked an awful lot like what he'd eaten earlier. Was he even digesting this stuff?
Apparently he was. Marley was growing at a furious pace. Each day he was a little longer, a little wider, a little taller, a little heavier. He was nine and a half kilos when I brought him home. Within weeks he was up to twenty three. His cute little puppy head had rapidly morphed into something resembling the shape and heft of a blacksmith's anvil.
Marley's paws were enormous. His sides already rippled with muscle. His chest was almost as broad as a bulldozer. His little puppy tail was becoming as thick and powerful as an otter's.
What a tail it was. Every last object in out house that was at knee level or below was knocked in all directions by Marley's wildly wagging weapon. He cleared coffee tables, scattered magazines, knocked framed photographs off shelves, and sent bottles and glasses flying. Gradually Jenny and I moved every item to higher ground, safely above the sweep of his swinging mallet.
Marley actually didn't wag his tail. He wagged his whole body, starting with the front shoulders and working backwards. He was like the canine version of a Slinky. We swore there were no bones inside him - just one big, elastic muscle. Jenny began calling him Mr Wiggles.
Marley wiggled most when he had something in his mouth. His reaction to any situation was the same. He would grab the nearest shoe or pillow or pencil and run with it. Really, any item would do. Some little voice in his head seemed to be whispering to him, "Go ahead! Pick it up! Drool all over it! Run!"
Some of the objects he grabbed were small enough to conceal, and this made him especially pleased. He seemed to think he was getting away with something. But when Marley had something to hide, couldn't keep it to himself. He would explode into hyperdrive. His body would quiver, his head would bob from side to side, and his entire rear end would swing in a sort of spastic dance. We called it the Marley Mambo.
"All right, what have you got this time?" I'd say.
Marley would waggle his way around the room. His hips swayed and his head flailed up and down like a whinnying horse. He would be so overjoyed with his forbidden prize, he could not contain himself. When I would finally get him cornered and pry open his jaws, I never came up empty-handed. There was always something he had plucked out of the bin or off the floor. As he got taller, he'd take it right off the dining room table. Paper towels, wadded Kleenex, grocery receipts, wine corks, paper clips, chess pieces, bottle caps. It was like a junkyard in there.

Most evenings after dinner Jenny and I strolled together with Marley along the waterfront. Stroll is probably the wrong word. Marley strolled like a runway locomotive strolls. He surged ahead, choking himself hoarse in the process. We yanked him back. He yanked us forward. We tugged. He pulled. He veered left and right, darting to every mailbox and shrub, sniffing, panting, and peeing without fully stopping. He usually got more pee on himself than on the intended target. He circled behind us, wrapping the leash around our ankles. Then he lurched again, nearly tripping us. When someone approched with another dog, Marley would bolt at them joyously, rearing up on his hind legs when he reached the end of the leash. He just wanted to make friends.
"He sure seems to love life," one dog owner commented. That just about said it all.
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Unread 12-06-2008   #8 (permalink)
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Question

Cute story dear but, where's the cat?
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Unread 12-06-2008   #9 (permalink)
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Default

No cat. But I thought you might like to read a bit of it becuase it's actually a really good book.
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Unread 12-07-2008   #10 (permalink)
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Talking

Yes, it seems to be a very good book, txs!
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