Preview of Coming Attractions

Over the next several months, I will be traveling across the country in search of cat stories, visiting innovative cat rescues and shelters, interviewing eccentric cat lovers, leading vets and behaviorists and so much more. To view my travel schedule and learn more about my Cat Behaviorist business, please visit . If I will be in your area and you feel you have some interesting cat stories to share, please don't hesistate to contact me via my website.

Friday, December 29, 2006

I just want cats

I am being swallowed by a book. Over a year ago, I attended the author’s workshop about writing sentences, constructing them with powerful words, evocative images, varying rhythms. When I told someone in my creative writing class that I was taking a workshop called “How to write a sentence”, he laughed at me (ignorant) “What is that, like, a grammar class?” But it was so much more. Janet Fitch. I had LOVED her White Oleander, loved it before I knew that Oprah did. And her workshop transformed the way I write.

She agonizes over every word. It is a miracle that she produced another book. But this book is agony to read. “Paint it Black”. The book’s violence and darkness yanks me, page by page, into depression. So why read it? Because I love this woman, this writer and her incredible mastery of storytelling. Its like a premenstrual catharsis. But once I finish it, I don’t want to visit the inner dialogue of human strife again. I just want cats. They keep me light. Keep me gentle and easy.

Little Bit came and snuggled with me as I read, distracting me. Her exquisite face close enough to examine every detail. Bitter chocolate with the lights off and then the most startling blue, like the frosted eye liner of a 7th grade girl. Tracing the slight ski-slope bump of her nose, I am inclined to forgive the imperfections of my own nose, so charmed am I by hers.

The tapering of her coloring after her ears to café au lait with milk chocolate shavings. A delight to touch, smell and admire.

My period is coming, drawing a blanket over my emotions, making me crave a solitude that admits only my cats. With them, I can be alone with my thoughts, yet not lonely at all. Is it any wonder that women and cats are a perfect pairing?

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