I used to believe in full moons, tea leaves, psychic readings and especially my horoscope. I never left the house without reading what some stranger had written in the daily newspaper. If my dream book went missing it was insomniac time. I had a psychic visit my store one day who told me she loved the clothing I sold so we made a trade. Madame B would come once a week and tell me things that I needed to know in exchange for some free items. She would look me straight in the eyes and grasp my hand while telling me the same things week after week. Madame B always told me to relax and things would eventually come.
“Who knows what is coming, but something is coming!” she would always say.
That bit of information cost me a piece of jewellery each week. Madame B confirmed that when we first met she saw a giant red aura around me. But then so did the woman who worked at Walmart in Brockville. That bit of information from Madame B cost me a silk scarf; the woman at Walmart asked for nothing. On the fourth week of knowing Madame B I told her I finally found a house after looking for a very long time. Madame B assured me that very house would definitely be my new home as she tried on a pink bra and admired her reflection.
Thirty-four days later I moved into that very same house and Madame B told me I would live there forever, as she pocketed a necklace and tried on a skirt. On the sixth week I brought a Ouija board into my new home that was intended to talk to the spirits of the past. Madame B did not assist me this time because my shop was running out of bras, skirts, and sweaters. That night, I took out my finest candles – tall, slim and pure white. I lit them and they shone brightly against the dark of the night. I prayed for the old man who had died in the house and then for his wife who was now in an old folk’s home. I asked for their love to last an eternity. As I blew out the candle, tears ran down my face. The very next day I found out that the old woman had passed during the night.
I thought I heard the smooth wood mantle sigh as the house had come full circle and so had I. Finally I felt so complete that I never needed to listen to Madame B again or hand out free merchandise. I believed that I could handle life myself now, and so ended the days of needless information, charlatans and free merchandise.
When I saw this story it was one of many that I have read in newspaper archives. I hate to say it but it was a common thing. If you don’t believe me read the one about Lanark County.. Bigamy–The Story of Ken and Anne and Debby and Cathy and…
Steve’s voice on the third floor became excited yesterday as he screamed,
“Something with a tail just walked by the door here.”
I immediately panicked as I hoped it wasn’t a squirrel or a raccoon. We have a varied amount of wildlife on this old property that call my home “their home”. After hearing those words my blood pressure shot up a notch or two.
“I’ll go get the trap!” I said frantically hoping that it was still in the garage. (Please note it is just a catch and release trap)
Sure enough it was still there, so I hauled it upstairs along with a bag of peanuts. If it was a squirrel it should be an easy task– but how in the heck did anything get in here. We had been gone for the weekend, but maybe whatever it was had entered the house when the garage door opened. One thing was for sure–if I saw poop– I could pretty well figure out what it was.
So peanuts laid out in a trail we sat back to wait. If the peanuts didn’t scare IT maybe the zombies playing Twister would. Hours went by and nothing. Not a tail– not a noise–not a darn thing. Steve began to vacuum the second floor TV room -yes the same room our neighbours watch (see story here) and all of a sudden this “grey being” ran by me and it had a long tail.
“It’s a cat!” we both screamed in unison.
We couldn’t figure out if it had gone downstairs–or where it went. I emphatically said (being Miss-Know-it-All) that I would have heard it if it had. So one by one bedroom rooms were shut off and the vacuum entered. I manned the first floor with a mop-in-hand after shutting first floor doors and opening the front door that somehow had opened –it never ever opens. Nothing.
When all was clear on the second floor we began our search on the Main floor. I opened the solarium door and bingo– there was the tabby cat that frequents our yard, and the very same cat that I once questioned about his possible role in eating baby chipmunk Pip. We looked at each other eye to eye and he said,
“Meow”
I screamed, “Stevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve”!
If I was a normal person I would have gone in and tried to catch him, but I am deathly allergic to cats. So Steve went into the “battlezone” and came out tenderly holding the cat and talking softly to it. If it was a perfect world he would own a 100 cats- I on the other hand would stop breathing. Unfortunately, it’s just that kind of world. So, released on the front lawn the cat never budged-and instead he rolled around in the grass and lay in the sunlight. He was in no hurry to get home.
So the mystery remains– whose cat was it, and how the heck did he get in? I got my answer this morning. It was Tommy Tonic’s cat from just down the street. He wrote: Hi Linda,
I see my kitty Michael did a break and enter in at your home today..so sorry 😞 He is safe and sound now and thanks so much for posting on Facebook on the Carleton Place Social Scene. I couldn’t believe that I was scrolling down and then there is a picture of Michael. Michael likes to go and visit Kim & Kev and their cats, so I guess he took a side tour of your place–thanks again.
If cats could talk they wouldn’t– so what went on in my home stays in my home with Michael— As for me–well, I’m not a cat am I ?:)
Buy Linda Secaspina’s Books— Flashbacks of Little Miss Flash Cadilac– Tilting the Kilt-Vintage Whispers of Carleton Place and 4 others on Amazon or Amazon Canada or Wisteria at 62 Bridge Street in Carleton Place
I wrote this very true “cat tail” in March of 2009 after reading daily emails from a good friend of mine about the cats she loves. This blog is dedicated to everyone that helps animals and above all to true love and to Rogue and Selma who were indeed two very real cats from Phoenix, Arizona.
Once upon a time in Phoenix Arizona, there was a very kind lady who looked after cats. There were outdoor cats, inside cats, and cats that just lived wherever they could. Every day the sun shone brightly and it was very very hot. It was a hard life for the outdoor feral cats trying to make it on their own.
Rogue was the most handsome cat of her feral cat crew. Every night he snuck in through the kitchen “kitty door”, climbed on top of her bedroom bureau, and stared at himself in the mirror. Then he would lick his paw, swish it over his head and smile at his reflection. The kind lady loved Rogue and wanted him to stay indoors where it was cool with her other cats but Rogue was Rogue. He had decided in his own kitty mind that he belonged to no one.
One day it became so unbearably hot that Rogue decided to sit next to the kind lady’s home under the bushes where his feral friend Goldie sometimes sat. His furry yellow pal had a friend sitting next to him and he introduced his companion to Rogue. Rogue looked up slowly with those sly dark eyes of his and saw Goldie’s friend. She completely took his breath away. Her name was Selma and Rogue fell in love with her right at that very second in time.
From that moment on Selma and Rogue were inseparable. They watched the sun rise, and then watched it go down. When the hot noon sun struck Rogue and Selma would sit in the back seat of the kind lady’s Jeep that she purposely left open for them. Days and weeks went by and they never left each other’s side. Selma was Rogue’s Juliet and he would never let anything harm her. Selma became pregnant with “kitty child” and Rogue was even more dutiful as time progressed.
He would go out scouting for food daily but at dusk you could see Rogue scale the tall fences to find her and stay by her side. The kind lady would go out every day and make sure Selma was out of the sun and that she was okay. Unbeknownst to anyone, Rogue would sit on top of some hidden fence protecting Selma through his watchful eyes.
When the kittens came, Rogue was there for his beloved more than any human could be. This love they had for each other was bigger than life itself. He would nestle beside her some nights while she nursed their kittens and sing ‘Nessun Dorma’ to them in his wee kitty voice. He had learned the song after listening to the kind lady’s music and now it was a song just for them. It was his way to express his profound and everlasting love for her.
One day the kind lady took their kittens to the vet to make sure they were okay and then found them loving homes. Rogue and Selma were heartbroken, but things had changed over the weeks. Rogue had become ill, and try as the kind lady might, they could not save Rogue. No one spoke about it for weeks. No one ever wanted to speak about it. Rogue had died and Selma was beside herself. Selma had lost her Romeo.
The kind lady tried hard to make Selma come inside but Selma was afraid to share her love again lest it disappear like Rogue. Selma was not herself anymore. She had lost the only kitty she had ever loved and would never ever have that kind of love again. A few weeks later Selma became pregnant with ‘kitty child’ once again and the father disappeared faster than the sun disappearing at night. Goldie the cat tried to persuade her to let the kind lady love and take care of her but she was just too afraid.
One day it was as hot as hot can be and Selma was very pregnant and giving up. Was life worth living without Rogue? She saw a small basket and crawled inside and with that the kind lady scooped her up and brought her inside. Her old friend Goldie came in that night and told her she had nothing to worry about, but Selma laid there with sad eyes and gave birth to her kittens.
Selma had three kittens that night. Identical twins and one other male that was so oddly marked the nice lady called him Toon. New life crept into Selma watching these kittens cuddle around her and she knew Rogue’s love was all around them. Goldie became her protector that night and they talked about Rogue and his life. Nothing could ever bring Rogue back but they would both remember him forever.
Months have passed now and Selma is just fine living with the kind lady and yes, Goldie is still by her side. Sometimes, just as the sun goes down they swear they can see the dark shadow of one fine looking cat sitting on the fence. If they listen carefully they can hear a small voice singing “Nessun Dorma” into the warm night air. They both know in their hearts that it is Rogue and he will forever be singing his love on that fence to Selma, his Juliet.
Dedicated to Anne B and just to let everyone know that as of today in 2016, Selma, Toon and Goldie still live on.
lindaseccaspina 