THE FORMER TOMCAT CLUB, Part 2 of The Tomcat Club

Crystal, President of the former Tomcat Club/Funny Feline Club.

THE FORMER TOMCAT CLUB
Part 2 of The Tomcat Club
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

“What’s she doing here?” Percy demands, pointing a paw at the newcomer.

“I invited her,” Cyndi says. “Cotton is more mature than I am. She’s only a year younger than Crystal. She can be a big help with writing this story for Jan.”

“Oh? Well, why didn’t you invite Jenny and the dogs? In fact, why not post a welcome-to-the-meeting sign on the front door and invite all the passing riffraff to join us?”

Cyndi ignores Percy’s sarcasm and says, “Jenny is old and blind. She needs her rest. She could find her way into the bathroom, but she wouldn’t be able to climb into the bathtub.”

Cameron asks, “Speaking of the bathtub, can’t we meet somewhere else at this hour of the morning? It’s too cold to sit here.”

“This bathtub sits at the farthest end of the house from where Jan and the dogs are sleeping,” Percy says. “If we’re quiet, they should all sleep through this meeting. This club is a secret.”

“Yes, the club.” Percy reminds them of the reason they have convened the meeting at four in the morning. “I call this meeting to order. Have you all been thinking of a new name for our club, since we can’t call it the Tomcat Club any more?”

Crystal cleared his throat. “Ahem. Percy, have you forgotten that I am President of this club? I am the one who calls the meeting to order. You take notes.”

“But you elected yourself President,” Percy complains.

Crystal reminds Percy, “And you elected yourself Secretary and Cyndi elected herself Vice-President.”

“And I elected myself Treasurer,” Cameron chimes in.

“Cameron, we don’t have a treasury. How can you be Treasurer?”

“Well, we could ask Jan to give us each an allowance and then we could all pay dues and we would have a treasure for me to manage.”

“No comment,” Percy says, moving one paw in a circular motion near his ear.

Cotton changes the subject. “This meeting is being run by a bunch of nuts. I make a motion we call this the Funny Feline Club.”

“The Funny Feline Club?” Crystal rolls the words around on his tongue. “I like the sound of that. We could write comedy. Does anyone want to second the motion?”

“I do,” Cyndi says. All heads nod in agreement.

Crystal stomps one paw, in lieu of a gavel. “Motion carried. We are now officially the Funny Feline Club.”

“Good choice!”

All heads swivel, as Buddy’s large, brown head looms over the edge of the bathtub.

“Yeah, I like it too.” Merci’s petite face peers around the other corner of the shower curtain. “Can we join?”

“I don’t believe this!” Crystal exclaims. “Is there no such thing as privacy in this house? What are you dogs doing sneaking into our meeting room?”

“We wanted to know where you cat critters are hiding. We thought maybe you have a private stash of food.”

“Buddy, all you ever think about is food. No, you can’t join the club. Only cats are allowed,” Crystal says, with authority.

“Merci, let’s go wake up Jan,” Buddy says.

“Okay, okay. You can join the club, but now we have to change the name again.” Crystal sighs. “The next meeting will be tomorrow night, same time and place. Bring your suggestions for the club name.”

“Keep in mind we need some story ideas,” Percy adds. “The deadline will be here before we even get to writing the story if we have to keep changing the club name.”

“Whatever you do, do not bring any more friends, enemies, strangers or other species to the next meeting – especially not Jan!” Crystal stomps his right paw to signal the meeting is adjourned.

“And everybody remember to bring your dues,” Cameron reminds them.

Percy,
Secretary of the Funny Feline Club

THE TOMCAT CLUB, Part 1

Percy, Secretary of the Tomcat Club, wearing writing hat

THE TOMCAT CLUB
Part 1
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

“What are we doing in the bathtub at four in the morning?” Crystal asks, sleepily. “What is so important we have to have a clandestine meeting in the bathroom in the middle of the night? When you guys reach the age of six, you’ll need more rest too.”

“We’re here,” Percy says, “because Jan needs our help. She is supposed to write a story for her writer’s group using a word list. We all know she can’t write fiction and we don’t want someone from the Funny Farm wimping out on the meeting just because she can’t write. We can write the story for her.”

Cameron rubs sleep from his eyes. “Good idea. How hard can it be to write a fiction story?”

“I’m not sure about this. You two are still kittens. You don’t have enough experience in life to write a story about anything.”

“Oh, Crystal,” Percy chides, “wake up and smell the litter pan. We don’t need to be experienced writers to write. Buddy and Merci are writing their own columns now and they don’t have any experience either. And Buddy, well, he’s even younger than Cameron.”

Cameron takes offense. “Don’t patronize me, Percy. You can’t be more than three or four weeks older than I am.” He looks around the bathtub. “And where are the other cats? They should be here.”

“They need their beauty sleep, Cameron. Besides, girls can’t write. If they could, Jan could write her own story and we could be curled up on her warm bed right now.”

“Okay,” Cameron concedes. “ We can do this by ourselves, but if we are going to have a club, we need to name it and elect officers, don’t we?”

“Cameron’s right. What about the Tomcat Club?” asks Crystal.

“Good idea, Crystal,” says Cameron. “I second the motion.”

“Slow down guys. I can’t take notes when you talk so fast,” Percy complains. “But the Tomcat Club it is. Now, about officers. I nominate Percy for Secretary, second it and Percy it is.”

“You can’t nominate and second yourself,” Crystal says, glaring at Percy. “We have to vote on each nomination.”

“Would you guys vote for me?”

“No,” Crystal and Cameron answer in unison.

“Then I nominate and vote for myself. Besides, I’m taking the notes, so I’m the Secretary by default anyway.”

Crystal and Cameron exchange glances. “Then I nominate, second and vote for myself for President,” Crystal declares, stretching to his full height to demonstrate he is the largest as well as the oldest one present.

“And I’m the elected Treasurer,” Cameron says in a no-nonsense voice.

“Treasurer?” Percy and Crystal say, as one. “We don’t have any money to treasure.”

“Then we’ll just have to collect dues. I have to have a title too. I’m Treasurer!”

“And I’m the Vice-President,” comes a familiar feminine voice.

The guys peer around the shower curtain. “Cyndi, what are you doing here? This meeting is for Tomcat Club members only,” President Crystal says.

“I’ve been eavesdropping. You guys desperately need some help. Instead of writing a story to help Jan, you’re arguing over who gets what position in a stupid male club. Move over and make room for me in there. I’m joining the club, but we’re going to rename it.”

“I suggest we adjourn for the night,” Percy says. We can continue this tomorrow night, same time and same place. We guys need some time to get over the shock of a girl invading our Tomcat Club.”

Crystal says, “I second the motion.”

“Well, if we’re done for the night, you all need to pay your dues,” Cameron adds.

“That does it!” Percy exclaims. “The Tomcat Club is officially disbanded. We meet here tomorrow night and write that fiction story for Jan. We can decide on a new name for our club then.”

Percy
Secretary of the former Tomcat Club

JAN'S MOTOR SKILLS

Merci and Buddy walking Jan on a lead.

JAN’S MOTOR SKILLS
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

I have been walking Jan for a year and a half. Buddy has only accompanied us a few times, so I get to write this column as the senior, more experienced canine authority.

Buddy and I have discussed Jan’s motor skills and we have independently reached the same verdict.

Jan has no motor skills.

We know this for a fact. We have thoroughly tested her under a variety of conditions and the only skill she has is being a klutz.

Just this afternoon Buddy and I gently and patiently led her through yet another re-test, hoping against hope she might finally pass. She flunked.

We walked very sedately down the street while Jan alternated between stopping suddenly, running two or three steps, moving left, moving right, walking around a post, tripping over her own feet, forging ahead, turning back, unwrapping herself from the leashes - You get the idea. She just can not walk a straight line at an even gait. It’s not our fault. We have done everything we can think of to properly train her to walk on a lead.

Why, just two months after I began training her to pep up her pace, she embarrassed me something terrible. I stopped to peaceably admire a squirrel across the street. The next thing I knew Jan was flailing, flying and rolling on the dirty cement. She still thinks her public acrobatics might be my fault. She wouldn’t have a clue- I mean, she wouldn’t dare try to blame me if that passing motorist hadn’t stopped to ask if she was all right and said, “Your feet got tangled up in the leash.” Honestly, a grown woman who can’t control her own feet!

Jenny the cat has lived with Jan for sixteen years and she claims Jan has been a klutz for all that time. Now that Jenny is blind, she has to depend on the squeals and screeches of the other pets to let her know when Jan is in her vicinity. We’re glad we can help Jenny.

I learned the hard way not to stand too close to Jan. Buddy hasn’t figured that out yet. He says he stays close to her so she can’t miss him and she doesn’t. She steps on him or trips over him all the time. He screeches. She screeches. It gets pretty noisy around here.

We have done fairly well at training her to let us know when she’s coming through. She yells, “Out of the waaaaaaaaaaay!” more frequently as she travels around the house now. We all stop where we are, usually at her feet, and watch Jan to see which one of us she’ll target this time.

I’m thinking that all of the residents here at Jan’s Funny Farm should have a yard sale. We can sell some of the things Jan doesn’t need, such as her clothes and books, and use the proceeds to send Jan to obedience school. Or perhaps, charm school. She must learn to coordinate her limbs or Buddy and I will have to train another walking partner. Mr. Doug likes us. Maybe he would volunteer.

Note to myself (Merci): If we do have a yard sale, we should put up a watch-where-you’re-stepping-and-what-you’re-stepping-in sign, just for fun.

Till next time,
Merci

MERCI WINS BED MAKING CONTEST

Merci poses with her bed making award.


"I miss the sharing," Buddy sighs as he hangs his head over the new divider.
MERCI WINS BED MAKING CONTEST
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

I would like to thank all of you who voted for me in the bed making contest. I appreciate your confidence and will try to live up to my reputation as the neatest dog of the house.

I don’t like to have my picture taken but Jan said I have to have publicity shots made so everyone can see what I won. A bed divider. Exactly what I needed. It has cats on it so it’s very appropriate for this household. Now I have my own space and Buddy has his.

As you can see, Buddy isn’t happy with the new arrangement. As soon as Jan gave me my award, Buddy tried to climb over it into my space. Jan told him he has to keep to his own side of the bed now and he’s doing the woe-is-me hangdog act, head resting on my award.

There’s something fishy about this award, though. The other day, when Jan put it in front of the screen door, Buddy took it and tried to eat it. At that time, she told Buddy to leave it alone because it was supposed to help keep out a draft. How did it go from being a draft dodger to a bed divider? Oh, well, as long as it works!


Ah, the peace of it. It worked so well all day. Then Buddy decided he didn’t want to share a divided bed. He dug up the rawhide bone he had buried in his mess, grabbed the bone and a corner of his half of the bed in his big mouth, and dragged the bedding into the living room. He dropped everything in a new spot, turned around and was surprised to find my half of the bed had followed him. So had I.

But I wasn’t angry. He’s so cute when he’s upset. I just grabbed a corner of my half of the bed and dragged everything back into Merci’s Den/Buddy’s Bed area.

I have to admit I missed the big, little guy. No, that’s not poor grammar, it’s what he is. A big, little puppy. I’m glad he missed me too. (Jan says I just called Buddy an oxymoron. Buddy’s isn’t a moron. He’s just messy.)

We are going to try to work out our differences. I let Jan have her draft dodger back. I don’t need to keep it because I know I’m a winner too, just like Buddy is, only in a different category, so I don’t need to display my award.

Buddy and I have resumed sharing living quarters and I’m secretly happy about it. Jan keeps this house so cold I need the little, big puppy to keep me warm, and vice versa.

All is peaceful here.
Merci

MR. BUDDY WINS THE SCRUFFY AWARD

Mr. Buddy accepts coveted Scruffy Award


And runs with it.


MR. BUDDY WINS THE SCRUFFY AWARD
Copyright 2005 Janice Price

Oh, what a proud day this is for me. I can’t believe it. My first award. I have the feeling I’m going to continue to be an award winning dog. Jan will have to keep me then. I’m the best writer and the most interesting character at Jan’s Funny Farm.

I was so pleased when Jan presented the imitation feather duster to me after all you wonderful folks voted for me to win the Scruffy Award. She said I won anonymously. I’m sorry, she says I misunderstood what she said. It isn’t possible to win anonymously. She didn’t count the anonymous votes because Miss Merci suggested people vote more than once and that wouldn’t be fair to the other nominees for the award.

By the way, who were the other nominees?

I thought the award would be age-appropriate, something edible, but when Jan presented me with the award and I started to eat it, she took it back. I guess she’s going to frame it and hang it over my award winning half of the bed so everyone will know I’m a winner.

She needed my help again today. Miss Merci was asleep in our room and I was in the living room with Jan. I followed her into the kitchen and what a shock! It looked like a miniature elephant took a leak. I know I can’t hold that much water. There was an absolute lake.

Jan was as impressed as I was. She just stood there and didn’t say a word for the longest time. She glanced in the other direction and saw the newspapers spread about in another lake. Two mini-elephants! This one obviously tried to clean up after itself with the newspapers.

Then she noticed the water bowl she had just filled with two pots of water was tilted and held only a few drops. Forget the mini-elephants, it was those kitten critters playing where they shouldn’t again.

I did my best to help her. I lapped up as much water as I could hold, but I had just finished a bowl of dry food, a bit of canned food and some little acorns in the front yard. For once, I was full. Jan mopped up what I couldn’t drink and when she went outside to throw the sopping newspapers in the trash can and empty the bucket, she took me along so I could empty my own water bucket.

What a day, and it’s barely noon. I need a nap to recover from all the excitement.

This is Mr. Buddy signing off for the day.