Mom Wrote a New Short Story About Me!

She wrote it as part of a Holiday Flash Fiction Carnival, hosted by her writer friend Bunnygirl.

Go here to check out the story: "New Year's Eve."



It's a fictionalized to take place around New Year's, but the premise behind the story is true. Even though, according to Mom, I'm the biggest snuggledy-buggledy cat she's ever known, and I'm a lap cat to the point that I'm a Velcro cat, I've never slept in the bed with Mom and Dad at night.

And a few nights ago, after many nights of looking at Mom and Dad longingly from the sewing machine table, I got into bed with them. I've been snuggling with them every night since. In her short story, Mom speculates on what might have been working in my mind.

Here's an excerpt:

Tonight is New Year’s Eve. It’s time to change my ways.

Not that I’m a bad cat. Quite the opposite. I’m a well-behaved cat. Mom tells me so all the time. Marilyn, she likes to say, you’re such a good, good girl. The only thing I do, once in a while, that’s naughty is to shred the paper towels while Mom and Dad are sleeping

And sometimes I’m crabby with my brothers and sister. But for an eleven-year-old kitty girl who spent the first ten years of her life as an only cat, I do remarkably well in the “other cats” department.

No, my New Year’s resolution is more subtle. I’ve lived with Mom and Dad for a year, but I’ve never slept in bed with them. Ten years of hearing “No” formed a habit that’s hard to break.

I want to break the habit.

But every time I find myself on the verge of taking the leap – pun intended – I hear Mabel, the lady with whom I lived for the first ten years of my life, saying, “No.”

Do You Want to Hear a Story?

For the month of September through the first week of October, Mom's been part of an event called Short Story Writing Month. She was only able to write one short story during that time because for most of September, she was rough-drafting a new novel.

But here's what I'm getting to: Mom's short story is about me! Isn't that great? It's called "Twice-Blessed" and is a speculative tale about what I might have gone through before showing up on Mom and Dad's back porch as a stray cat last year. In the story, I'm called "Lulabelle" or "Lula" before my name becomes Marilyn MonREOW.



Here's an excerpt:

On her way to the couch, Lulabelle’s longtime friend wobbled. “I’m dizzy,” she said, her voice breathless. “I need to lie down for a while. I’m glad I’m going to the doctor next week.”

Lula twitched her whiskers as Mabel lay down on the couch, covered herself with a quilt, and went quickly to sleep. Mabel had been getting dizzy more and more often, and she’d been especially dizzy today. Beside herself with worry, Lula jumped onto the couch, curled herself up on Mabel’s chest – it felt so frighteningly frail – then she tucked her head under Mabel’s chin and purred, hoping her purrs would help Mabel feel better.

Mabel shifted slightly in her sleep and put her thin arms around Lula. Lula loved it when she did this. Lula and Mabel had been together a long time, over ten years. Mabel called herself an old lady, though Lula didn’t know what an old lady was. Mabel was all Lula had ever known – well, Mabel and her friends. Florence and Angela called themselves old ladies, too. And if all old ladies were like Mabel, Florence, and Angela, then Lula loved old ladies. They had warm hearts and gentle hands.

But Mabel had a nephew, too – his name was Fred – and whatever nephews were, if they were all like Fred, then Lula didn’t like them one bit. Whenever Fred came over, he treated Lula as if she were a pest, and he tried to convince Mabel to move away into a “nursing home”, whatever that was. Lula did know that Mabel didn’t want to go to one, and Mabel had also told Lula that the biggest reason she didn’t want to go to a nursing home was because she wouldn’t be able to bring Lula with her.

What a terrible thought. Lula couldn’t imagine life without Mabel. And she didn’t want to.

If you'd like to read the rest, go here: Twice-Blessed.

Next, Mom's going to write a speculative tale about MaoMao's journey to our house and post it to her short story blog. Mao is very excited!

Darling Mickeybear, my wonderful, warm, Whitester mancat, I so enjoyed snuggling on your wall with you!