COTTON CALLS A MEETING

COTTON CALLS A MEETING
© 2006 Janice Price


“What are we doing here in the middle of the afternoon?” Crystal is miffed at being summoned to an emergency meeting during his nap hour. “Our regular meeting time is four in the morning. It’s two in the afternoon and we’re in the living room instead of the bathtub. I’m the President and I didn’t schedule this meeting. What’s going on?”

Cotton leaps nimbly onto the coffee table. “This is not an official meeting of the Funny Farm Writing Club. I called this impromptu meeting to discuss some behavior problems among the residents. I don’t know whether you remember this or not but Jan rescued each of us, except Cameron. Cameron, you moved in on your own, but technically Jan did rescue you. You were lonely and didn’t want to be an outdoor kitten. She finally gave up and allowed you to stay, but only after she asked permission to keep you.”

“Yes,” Cameron admits. He reaches out a paw and pats Merci on the shoulder. “I was really glad to be inside the house with you and all the other residents when we had that ice storm last month. I could have been beamed by a falling branch if I didn’t freeze to death first.”

“Jan didn’t rescue me, Merci did,” Percy exclaims. “Jan thought I was a bird in the bush. If it hadn’t been for Merci I would have died last summer.”

Cotton speaks slowly. “But what if Jan refused to allow Merci to keep you? Did you ever think of that? Merci was rescued from the county animal shelter. She does not pay the rent or make the rules here. Jan does and Jan has given up a lot of things she needs or wants in order to keep us. She could have taken you to the animal shelter. There are more animals at the shelter than there are homes for them, so you would most likely not have been adopted and you would have died there.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“And you, Cyndi,” Cotton nods at Cyndi. “You were rescued after a week of living under Mr. Doug’s car because his dog thought you were her next meal. You could have starved or frozen to death, but Mr. Doug and Jan rescued you, and Jan took you in.”

Cyndi smiles. “Yes, that was only a year ago. I really like it here even if it is too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. I eat well and get lots of attention.”

“Well, Jan didn’t want to take me in because she couldn’t afford another mouth to feed, but she did it anyway,” Cotton says. “I was so sick I thought I would die before I found her and cried for her to help me. She didn’t have any money to take me to the vet but she nursed me back to health and saved my life.”

Buddy chimes in. “It was cold and I was hungry, but Mr. Doug is the one who rescued me when I was abandoned a week before Christmas.”

“And then he called his sister and Jan brought you home because you were only three or four weeks old. You couldn’t chew solid food yet and you needed to be fed several times a day.”

“I still need to be fed several times a day.”

“No, Buddy, you want to be fed several times a day. There’s a difference. And eating the floor mats or our toys doesn’t count as being fed.”

Crystal speaks up, “ Jan didn’t rescue me either. I only stayed because she needed me.”

“That’s not true, Crystal. You and your brother wandered the street after being dumped in the neighborhood. You followed anyone and everyone, trying to get help. Then you lost your brother and sobbed under Jan’s window until she took pity on you and took you inside.”

Crystal is embarrassed. “I was not sobbing. Guys don’t sob.”

“Is the meeting over yet?” Buddy asks. “I want to go look for something to eat.”

“No, the meeting is not over!” Cotton says firmly. “There has been too much unruly and mischievous behavior lately and if we want to keep our home here at the Funny Farm, we need to shape up and start behaving.”

“What are you talking about?” Percy wants to know.

“Have you already forgotten this morning?” Cotton asks. “Jan caught you throwing dry cat food to Buddy after you climbed onto the bathroom door, leaped over onto the bags of food, and ripped a large hole in the side of the unopened cat food bag she bought yesterday. She covered the bags over with a sheet and then found you and Cameron under the sheet trying to rip a hole in the bag of Buddy’s puppy chow. You aren’t starving; you always have food available.”

“Oh, that.” Percy shrugs it off. “That was a long time ago and it was already forgotten."

Cameron says, “It wasn’t my idea. Percy showed me how to scale the bathroom door and wiggle under the sheet to reach the bags.”

“And you, Merci,” Cotton continues. “Yesterday you ran off when Jan took you and Buddy to play in Miss Mother’s fenced yard. She thought you were lost and she would never find you.

“It wasn’t my fault. She was opening the tail gate on her car and when she reached up, the collar slid right over my head. I thought she wanted me to run away.”

“You know better than that! She dragged Buddy around the neighborhood, calling your name and hoping none of those big, barking dogs got loose.”

“I was hoping the same thing,” Merci says. “Once I got around the corner and could go anywhere I wanted to go, I realized the world is really a scary place. So I went back and she was driving away.”

“It’s a good thing you came back when you did. If you hadn’t, she would have been driving around the area to search for you. You scared her and when you returned, she picked you up and paced beside the car hugging you for a long time while I was left alone in the car.” Buddy is jealous. “For once, I was the one that was good and you got hugged instead of me.”

“The point is,” Cotton continues, “that we need to stop making problems for Jan. We don’t want to end up at the animal shelter. Merci can attest that it’s not a fun place to be. So, please, we must calm down and start acting like adults.”

“That’s fine for you,” Percy says. “But some of us aren’t adults yet. We only have one hood.”

Cotton blinks rapidly, confused. “Hood? You have a hood?”

“Yes, it’s like childhood, only we’re not children. I guess it would be puppyhood or kittenhood. Whatever, we only get one.”

“We’ll try to do better,” Cameron says.

Buddy agrees. “Yes, I’ll keep a better eye on Merci so she doesn’t get into any more trouble.”

Merci glares at Buddy. “At least I haven’t tried to kill Jan.”

“That was an accident,” Buddy says. “You all agreed it was an accident.”

Cyndi tilts her head. “I hear Jan’s car pulling into the yard.”

“This meeting is over,” Cotton says, “but think about what we discussed.”

Cameron calls to the departing backs, “Don’t forget, you’re all behind in paying your club dues.”

“That’s enough about dues!” Crystal orders, stepping on Cameron’s paw as he passes.

Mr. Buddy, Journalist, reporting the facts.

Note: I found these notes in Buddy’s writing journal. He probably wandered off to eat, took a nap and forgot about posting them. It’s a wonder he didn’t eat his notes too.
Percy

RUSTY JOINS THE CLUB

Rusty Joins the Club

Copyright 2006 Janice Price

Standing tall and proud on the typing chair, Percy hits the final key with a flourish. “There, I’m finished. Our journal is up to date. I made a few changes and added some color. I hope you all like the new look.”

The other feline members of the Club are sitting on Jan’s desk. Cameron leans closer to the computer screen. “I thought you were going to change the picture. It looks the same to me.”

“Yeah, it does to me too,” Cyndi agrees.

Buddy is sitting on one side of Percy’s chair and Merci is sitting on the other side. “No, it isn’t exactly the same photo collage,” he says. “Look closer. See the middle picture at the bottom? That’s new.”

Cotton squints at the collage on the screen, and complains loudly, “Why is Crystal on there twice?”

Cyndi and Cameron are also miffed.

“Yeah, what makes him so special?”

“This is unfair. Just because he’s the oldest doesn’t mean he should get preferential treatment.”

“Well, I am the President of the Funny Farm Writing Club. Not that it matters. Percy makes decisions and calls meetings without consulting me.”

“That’s enough, all of you! That’s not Crystal,” Merci arbitrates. “If you’ll look closely at the picture, that cat is bigger and fluffier than Crystal. That’s a picture of Rusty.”

All of the cats except Percy speak as one. “Rusty?”

“There’s nobody here named Rusty!”

“Quiet!” Buddy’s booming voice gets their attention. “Merci and I asked Percy to add Rusty to the group. We didn’t think you cats would get so upset over it.”

“But we don’t know Rusty,” Cotton says thoughtfully and logically. “The journal is only for Funny Farm Writing Club members. Rusty doesn’t live on the Funny Farm and so he can’t be a Club member.”

Merci stands and places her front paws on the front of the desk. “Well, not technically. But -”

“No buts,” Cameron states firmly. “No residency, no membership.”

Crystal walks across the desk, raises his right paw and, in lieu of a gavel, whacks Percy on the head. “Traitor,” he says in a low voice to Percy. He addresses the group in a normal tone. “I hereby call this meeting to order. All in favor of voting Rusty out of the Club he has never been a member of, say aye.”

Cyndi has second thoughts. “Wait a minute. Let’s calm down before we start swinging at one another.” She looks at Buddy. “I’m sure there is a perfectly illogical explanation, and you’re as illogical as they come, so why don’t you explain what this is all about, Buddy.”

“Uh, thank you, I think.” Buddy clears his throat and begins his simple explanation. “Rusty was Miss Mother’s Thanksgiving Dinner.”

“What?”

“You want a dead cat to join our Club?”

“Jan’s mother ate a cat?”

Percy sticks a paw in his left ear. “Cyndi you shrieked right into my ear. I’ll go deaf if you do that again.”

“But Jan’s mother ate a cat. Which one of us is next?”

Buddy leaps to his feet. “Wait, wait, nobody ate a cat.”

Merci tries to speak in her normal quiet tone but is forced to raise her voice in order to be heard. “Will all of you just shut up!” she yells. “What Buddy should have said is that Jan adopted Rusty from the animal shelter for Miss Mother – in place of Thanksgiving dinner. Jan thought Miss Mother would rather have a companion cat than a big dinner, so she spent the money for their Thanksgiving dinner on Rusty.”

“Yes,” Buddy agrees quickly. “That’s exactly what I meant. Isn’t that what I said?”

“No!”

“I’m sorry. Let me start from the beginning. Merci and I rode in the car when Jan picked up Sam.”

Cotton groans. “Who is Sam and where did he come from?”

“Please, stop confusing me,” Buddy pleads. “Let me finish. Sam is Rusty. Sam was his name when Jan adopted him, but Miss Mother gave him a new name – Sam. No,” he corrects himself, "Rusty. She named him Rusty.”

“But he still doesn’t live here and so he can’t be a member of the Club,” Cameron says firmly.

Percy speaks up. “Yes, he can. He can be an honorary member of the Club.”

Cameron continues to object. “No, he can’t. We only made Jenny an honorary member because she lived here and was too old to participate in our activities and meetings. If Rusty wants to join our Club, he has to pack his bags and move in here with the rest of the members.”

Merci shakes her head in disbelief. “Cameron, I can’t believe this.” She looks at each cat and says, “Rusty might not live here but Jan adopted him and Miss Mother loves him. That makes him part of the extended Funny Farm and he should be included in the group photo album.”

“Merci is right,” Cyndi pronounces. “If you think about it, we are not just members of the same Club. We are also members of the same family, because - Well, Merci, you were adopted from the shelter. The rest of us were abandoned and Jan rescued us.” Cameron opens his mouth and Cyndi concedes, “Yes, I know, except for you, Cameron. You moved in on your own.”

“I feel a little ridiculous,” Crystal admits. “Merci made a good point. I want to change my vote and vote Rusty into the Club as an honorary member.”

Cotton raises a paw. “I second it.”

“I triple it,” Cameron adds sheepishly. “What? What did I say wrong?”

“I feel good about this,” Cyndi says. “I think Jenny would be pleased with us for making Miss Mother’s companion cat our second honorary member.”

“Jenny has been gone for nearly six months,” Crystal asks carefully. “Do you think we should take her name and photo off the journal?”

Buddy objects with vehemence. “No way! She will always be an honorary member of our Club.”

“Yes, Jenny is gone and Rusty is joining the Club, but he isn’t replacing her. She was a wise old cat.” Merci sighs. “I still miss her.”

“I think I hear Jan’s car,” Buddy fibs, as he turns and walks quickly away, before the Club can see the single tear sliding down his nose.

Percy,

Secretary, the Funny Farm Writing Club

GINNY'S MEMORIAL SERVICE

Ginny with her cat friend Blondie


GINNY’S MEMORIAL SERVICE
Copyright 2005 Janice Price


“Wow,” Cotton murmurs, “I can barely believe what I’m reading.”

Crystal is also amazed. “Me either.”

“I can believe it,” Percy says.

“So can I,” echo Cyndi and Cameron.

Buddy wakes from his nap to see all the cats gathered around the computer monitor. He climbs down from Jan’s chair, stretches lazily and asks, “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

Percy, standing on the computer chair with his front paws resting on the desk near the keyboard, points at the computer screen. “I found an interesting news story on the Internet. Remember Ginny?”

“Who’s Ginny?” Merci asks as she enters the room.

Cotton begins, “The dog –“.

“The dog who –“

“Crystal! Cotton! I found the story. I get to tell it,” Percy huffs.

“Okay, okay,” Crystal grumbles. “I don’t know why I was elected President of the Funny Farm Writing Club. Percy leads all our meetings.”

“This isn’t a meeting,” Percy reminds him. “And if you remember, you elected yourself President.”

“Well, only because you elected yourself Secretary.”

“So? Cameron elected himself Treasurer and he can’t count past his toes.”

“I can too count past my toes!” Cameron automatically protests. Then he admits sheepishly, “Or I could if I had a calculator.”

Buddy, usually the instigator of arguments, tries to break up this one between Crystal, Percy and Cameron. “Stop arguing and one of you tell me what you’re talking about before Jan gets home and breaks up this meeting that we’re not having.”

Percy closes his mouth, looks daggers at Crystal and Cameron as a silent warning not to interrupt again, and begins. “Ginny is a dog. Or was a dog - a schnauzer-Siberian husky mix, to be exact. Jan’s cat Jenny died August 23rd, just two days before Ginny the dog. They were both seventeen years old.”

“Oh, yes,” Merci says quietly, “I remember Jenny. She was an honorary member of our Club.”

Cyndi adds, “I miss her.” The others nod their heads and try to pretend they don’t notice the single tear rolling down Buddy’s face. He is the biggest, strongest, youngest and most stubborn, yet the most emotional, of the group.

Percy clears his throat, not wanting to admit he is also feeling a bit emotional over the loss of Jenny. He resumes. “Philip Gonzales adopted Ginny from the pound when she was about a year old, after someone locked her and her puppies in a closet and abandoned them to die of starvation.”

“Oh, no!” Buddy whoops, at the mention of anyone starving. Eating is his favorite activity. “I hope the barbarian who left her and her puppies to starve was caught and punished!”

“I doubt it,” Cotton says. “But she didn’t die and she had 16 good years with Philip.”

“How do you know?” Crystal asked.

“Jan has two books written about Ginny - The Dog Who Rescues Cats and The Blessing of the Animals. I read them,” Cotton, an avid reader, admits.

Percy picks up where he was interrupted. “Ginny had a knack for finding cats who needed help. Sick, starving, blind, deformed, abandoned, newborns – Ginny found them. Philip took them to a vet and although he kept many of them, he couldn’t keep them all, so he either found a home for each cat or released them back into their feral colonies.”

“But,” Buddy wails, unable to imagine any animal going hungry, “they would starve if he put them outside again.”

“No, they didn’t starve, Buddy,” Percy continues. “Philip and Ginny went around every day and fed all the feral colonies they discovered. His friend Sheilah helped. Ginny is gone but the Ginny Fund still exists to help Philip take care of rescued cats. Ginny even has her own fan club.” (Update 10/2011: The links have been removed as they are no longer related to the Ginny Fund. The Ginny Fund still exists but can only be contacted by postal mail and we don't have their address.)

Crystal can’t contain himself any longer. “But the biiiig news, Buddy, is that on Saturday, November 19th, the Westchester Cat Show will hold a memorial service for Ginny.”

Ginny, the dog,” Cameron adds for emphasis. “Isn’t that neat?”

Buddy grins. “It sure is neat. Maybe next year they’ll give Merci an award. After all, she rescued you, Percy, when you were tiny. Jan thought you were a bird. And, Cameron, you used to follow Merci around like a puppy, until you managed to move in and become part of the Funny Farm.”

“We would probably have a lot more members living here if it wasn’t for you, Buddy.”

“What are you talking about, Cyndi?” Buddy demands.

“I mean, you’re like a cat repellent, Buddy,” Cyndi explains patiently. “You get so excited to see anyone, you leap and bark and scare off the cats that used to follow Merci when she walked Jan.”

“Yes,” Percy adds. “If you were with Merci when she rescued me, I would have been afraid to cry for help. And if I had, no one would have heard me above your excited seal imitation.”

“Seal imitation?”

Merci walks around Percy’s chair and lays a dainty paw on Buddy’s chest. “Yes, Buddy, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t want to hurt your feelings since you are my best friend, but when you get excited, you sound like a hysterical barking seal. It’s embarrassing to be on the same block with you.”

Buddy’s mouth opens and closes several times before he manages to speak. “I think I’ll go to Ginny’s memorial service at the cat show.” He stands and walks away. “And I just might not come back,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Oh, you know Buddy never misses a meal,” Percy assures Merci. “He’ll be back before the clock strikes the dinner hour.”

“Are you sure he should be allowed to go to a cat show?” Cotton asks. “Can you imagine the pandemonium when Buddy starts greeting all those cats who don’t know he’s just a harmless hulk? The cats will be climbing the mourners at the memorial service and Buddy will be bowling over the folks with the cats hanging onto their heads with their claws.”

Merci sighs. “Yes. We love Buddy, and we know he’s just a loveable calamity on four feet.” She shakes her head. “He’ll certainly never be another Ginny, but, then, Ginny was unique.”

Percy, Secretary, Funny Farm Writing Club

THE BMP PLUMBING SERVICE

THE BMP PLUMBING SERVICE
Copyright 2005 Janice Price


“Mmm, this is the life,” Buddy breathes, as he rolls onto his side and stretches in the warm sunshine.

“Yes,” Merci agrees. She leaps deftly to her feet to avoid Buddy’s flailing feet. “This is my favorite time of the year.”

Percy nips the paw Buddy has shoved into his side and ignores Buddy’s yelp of protest. “It won’t be long before it will be too cold to stretch out in front of the screen door and sleep in the sun. It’s going to be a long, boring winter.”

“Oh, it won’t be boring,” Buddy says with assurance. “I have decided what I want to do with my life.”

“Eat!” Merci and Percy laugh.

“No, seriously, guys,” Buddy protests, “ever since Mr. Landlord was here the other day, I have been thinking of becoming a plumber.”

“Mr. Landlord? Oh, you mean our landlord.” Percy cocks his head. “No, he can’t be our landlord. Jan pays the rent. He must be her landlord.”

“But Mr. Landlord isn’t a plumber. We heard him tell Jan he’s a contractor.”

Buddy rolls onto his stomach and watches a squirrel sit on a porch step and eat a pecan. “But, Merci, he replaced the kitchen faucet when he was here. He’s a plumber!”

Merci shakes her head. “Just because he knows how to turn on and off the water, that doesn’t make him a plumber. He just got lucky.”

“No! If you remember, I helped him. I showed him where the leak was. I barked for Jan to fetch a rag to clean up the water after he pulled everything out from under the sink. I even reminded him to go buy a new faucet before he took out the old one. It’s a good thing I was there, peering under the sink, watching him. He might have fallen asleep under there if I hadn’t kept knocking things over and nudging him along.”

Percy laughs. “You’re right, Buddy. He couldn’t have done the job without you.”

“Go ahead and laugh now. You won’t laugh when I have money in my – Oh, I forgot, I don’t have pockets. But I’m going to have money to spend.”

“Can I earn some money too?”

Buddy looks indignant. “You’re a girl, Merci. Girls don’t do plumbing. Did you see the size of that wrench Mr. Landlord carried outside to turn off the water at the meter? It probably weighs more than you do!”

“Well, I could do something. Mop up the water spills, hand you the lightweight tools, whatever you need that I can handle.”

Buddy thinks a moment and changes his mind. “Yes, it would be nice to have an employee. You could be my secretary and make my appointments. Cameron, the Funny Farm Writing Club Treasurer, can’t count higher than his toes yet. Maybe you can also do the billing and balance the books. You can add, can’t you?”

Merci nods her head, growing excited at the prospect of having a career.

“Well, if you two are going to work together and have spending money, I want a position too.”

“Okay, Percy, you can be the one who mops up the water spills, hands me the tools and whatever else I need help doing.”

“Just don’t ask me to bring you a wrench like Mr. Landlord carried. I’m smaller than Merci, remember.”

“If we’re going to start a business, we need a name for it.”

“I know, Buddy, we can call it Percy and Buddy’s Plumbing Company.”

“Hey, you forgot my name,” Merci complains.

“But you’re only the secretary.”

“Buddy, if you don’t include my name in the company title, I’ll tell Cameron you need a bookkeeper.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll include your name. The Buddy, Percy, Merci Plumbing Company.”

“That sounds terrible,” Percy says. “We need something with class, like PBM Plumbing Company.”

Buddy rises to his feet and stretches to look as tall and masculine as possible. “This is my idea. It’s my company. My name goes first! And to be fair to you two, we’ll do it in alphabetical order. Buddy, Merci, Percy Plumbing Company.”

“That sounds terrible too, Buddy. The name weighs more than Mr. Landlord’s wrench.”

“What about the BMP Plumbing Service?” Merci asks.

Buddy mulls over the name. “BMP Plumbing Service. Hmmm, I like that. It’s easy to spell also. Does that sound all right to you, Percy?”

“Yes, I like that name. I can print some business cards. This should be fun. When do we start?”

“Just as soon as we get a client,” Buddy beams. “I can’t wait to get started. After all, how hard can it be to plumb? We can learn as we go. This should be fun.”

Percy and Merci exchange a nervous glance. Buddy’s schemes tend to go awry.

“In fact, we can practice here at home,” Buddy announces confidently. “The faucet in the bathtub has to be replaced. Let’s surprise Jan and fix it for her.”

Merci climbs to her feet and slowly follows Buddy into the bathroom. “One way or another, Jan is definitely going to be surprised!”

Percy,
Secretary to the Funny Farm Writing Club