EXCERPTS

I hope you enjoy this excerpt from According to Punkin.

Chapter 7

To Groom or Not to Groom

I have never suffered such indignation! I screamed, howled and even hissed at my mom a couple of times, but nothing I did would change her mind. She was determined to give me a bath, so into that water I went with a splash, but she would not turn me loose. I’m sure I would have died of embarrassment if anyone had walked into the room. I was wet from head to toe, and as if water wasn’t bad enough, she was spreading some slimy stuff on me that she called shampoo, and had the nerve to tell me it was gonna make me smell good! There’s nothing wrong with the way I smell. I smell like a cat, for goodness sake. Then, the thing that really didn’t make sense was that she poured more water on me to get the shampoo off. If it was gonna make me smell good, why didn’t she leave it on me? Oh well, I hoped this humiliation wasn’t going to last too much longer because she was reaching for a towel. Now that turned out to be even worse. She wrapped me up like some kind of baby, and talked baby talk to me. That was almost comforting, if only I had known no one would walk into the room, but that was too easy. I heard the front door close, then I heard boots walking across the floor, and I knew my worst fears had come true. It was my dad, of all people. I surely didn’t want him to see me in this horrible condition. As mom turned to talk to him, I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a drowned rat! My fur was all wet and clung to me as if it had syrup in it. I was sure I would never be normal again. I was going to spend the remainder of my life looking like a wet noodle. Then mom turned me back around, and I got a look at dad’s face. I wasn’t quite sure what that look meant, but as soon as he spoke I figured it out. He chewed mom out really good, starting with “What are you doing to my baby? I could hear her screaming all the way out in the yard. Don’t ever give that cat another bath. She will do her own bathing.” Oh happy day! Saved by the daddy! That’s the last bath I’ve ever had, except for the ones I give myself. I’m really quite good at it, and it’s something I do several times a day. I always bathe after I eat, which is very often. Mom did ask the vet about it, and he said that a cat is quite capable of keeping themselves very clean, so baths are not at all necessary. As soon as dad left the room, she got out the scissors. This looked really bad, but she said she just needed to trim the matted places out of my fur. I was really glad when she finished that job. It didn’t hurt at all, but I didn’t like it.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I love my mom very much, but I surely was glad to win that battle. But that was only one battle of a continuing war. The next trauma was getting the claws clipped. I have what they call a scratching post, but sometimes I use the nearest piece of furniture to pull the old sheaths off my claws. I stretch up as tall as I can, dig my claws in and pull really hard, and that does the trick. When mom catches me using the furniture, she gets really angry with me. Sometimes the furniture tears, so I guess that’s why she yells at me, and still thinks my claws need trimming. I guess she’s right. I just don’t want her to know it.

Another thing I don’t understand about all of this grooming is getting my ears cleaned out. Why does it matter if my ears are a little dirty? Nobody should be looking inside my ears anyhow. It’s not like my face being dirty. My ears are my private property, and I sure don’t like a cotton swab being stuck into them. Cotton swabs were intended for cleaning around the little hard-to-get-to places on the dash of a big truck, not for cat ears, so please, spare me the indignity.

You know, now that it’s over, I suppose the grooming wasn’t so bad after all. Mom has laid me in my basket and covered me with a nice warm, fluffy towel that she just took out of the dryer, and I’m getting really sleepy. I think I can take a very long nap now. When I wake, I’ll tell you about some of my favorite toys. Good night.

And an excerpt from According to Phoenix

Remember, Phoenix was rescued from an animal shelter by her Dad, and later given to Walter and me.

Chapter 5

Dog Paddling

Mom and Dad both worked long, hard hours. At last, it was time for a vacation. We all had different ideas about what we would like to do with our week. Dad said there was a big truck show in Dallas, Texas, and he thought it would be fun to go to it. Mom said she thought it was much too hot to go to a truck show and would prefer going to the beach. Staying at the park playing ball and chasing Frisbees was my idea of a perfect week.

At last, Dad had an idea that pleased all of us. He said we could go to Branson, Missouri, rent a pontoon boat, and spend the week on the lake. I had never been to a lake, but I could tell there was excitement in the air. They went to the store and bought two coolers. They filled one with ice and drinks and the other with food. They packed blankets, sunscreen and, of course, enough clothes for the week. I quickly checked to make sure they had packed a supply of balls, Frisbees, and food for me, and we were off for a week of fun at the lake.

It only took about an hour to get to Branson, but it seemed more like four hours. Mom and Dad sang songs, and I even tried to join in. We finally got there, and they selected a pontoon boat. I pranced down the pier just ahead of them and jumped onto the boat. Oh,somebody help me, please! Something wasn’t right. The floor was moving up and down underneath my paws, and I started getting sick. It got even worse when Mom and Dad stepped on. Please, somebody help me! I stood as still as I possibly could, trying to steady my legs. Each time I tried to walk, the floor came up and met me. Dad cranked the boat and started pulling away from the pier. Not me, Dad! Not today. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit this one out. Mom grabbed my collar just in time to keep me from jumping back to the pier. I really wished she had not done that, because it was going to seem like the longest week of my life. I finally found a spot that was out of the way where I could lie down and try to keep my stomach where it belonged. I finally dozed off to sleep, and when I woke, I felt much better. I still didn’t think it was normal for the floor to move. It was getting late in the afternoon, and we were all hungry. Dad fired up the grill, Mom made some hamburger patties, and I’m sure the people on the other side of the lake could smell them cooking. Dad said since it was a special night I could have a burger, too. We toasted marshmallows over the hot coals that were left in the grill. I didn’t care much for them. They were much too sticky, and I got them all over my snout. Mom gave me some of my treats. It had been a really long day, and we were all tired, so we decided to go to bed early. I’m sure I would have slept much better without the frog and cricket quartet.

We all slept late the next morning, and it had already started getting hot when we woke up. Dad said he thought he would go for swim, and before I had a chance to wonder what he was talking about, he dived off the side of the boat and disappeared! He was gone; nowhere to be seen. I paced back and forth across the end of the deck. I couldn’t see my dad anywhere. That was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. My dad had disappeared right in front of my eyes! What could I do? Just as suddenly as he had disappeared, he reappeared; at least part of him did. We still had a problem. Half of him was still missing. I was sure he was in horrible pain, because he was hitting the water with his arms. The pain must have affected him mentally, because he was laughing, and telling me to come into the water with him. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I needed my legs. He took hold of the ladder that was attached to the side of the boat and pulled himself up out of the water. Oh, wag my tail! My whole dad was back. In the blink of an eye, he leaned forward and scooped me up into his arms and I knew what was about to happen. I don’t think so, Dad. I don’t want to go into the … Splash! Help me, Mom! I can’t … I can’t … I suppose I can swim; at least I can dog paddle.

The entire week was filled with excitement and new adventures. Dad would throw my ball out into the water. It was fun to swim out, get the ball, and bring it back to him. I finally learned if I would back up from the edge the boat and start running, I could dive into the water several feet from the boat. I had no idea swimming could be so much fun. Another thing I really enjoyed was sitting at the front of the boat when it was moving. The wind blowing in my face felt so good.

Dad got in a little fishing, but he did most of it while I was napping. He was concerned I might get a fishhook in my paw. One day he caught a fish, and the excitement woke me. When he took the fish off the hook, it slipped out of his hands. Things got really exciting for while! The fish was flopping around on the deck, I was trying to catch it, Dad was trying to keep me away from it, and Mom was yelling because we were rocking the boat too hard. The fish finally managed to slip over the edge of the boat back into the water. I tried to catch it, but lost my balance and fell into the water right behind it. I wish I could swim half as fast as that fish; it was out of my sight in about two seconds.

When our week ended and we returned home, I continued for a long time to think of all the fun we had. What I never did learn to enjoy was toasted marshmallows. Sometimes, while I was napping, I dreamed of the wind blowing through my hair, and of how good it felt to swim around in the cool water. In my dreams, I actually enjoyed the sound of the singing frogs and crickets. I really hoped the next time we had a vacation we would do exactly the same thing.

And, as promised, an excerpt from According to Taffy, just in time for Christmas! I hope you enjoy it.

Ride the Rowdy Tree

Mom said it was time to decorate the house for Christmas. That was one of the most exciting things I have ever done. She dragged boxes into the house, and they were filled with all kinds of glittery decorations, including the most beautiful balls I had ever seen. They were slick and shiny, and I knew they would be fun to play with.

As soon as I tapped one with my paw, just as I expected, it sailed across the room. Another one lay in the pathway. As I ran past it, I gave it a swat and continued to chase the first one. Again, I took a swing at it, causing it to bump into still another one. Within a few minutes, I had four of those beauties bouncing off each other. I was banking them off the walls like a pool shark. The entire room was a blur with motion.

Suddenly I heard the sickening sound of one of those balls shattering as it crashed against the wall. At that same instant, Mom walked into the room. She had given me two names, just for this sort of occasion. When she shrieked, “Taffy Louise!” I knew it was time for me to seek out a different location. My paws hit the floor one time, and I was around the corner and out of sight. Under the bed seemed like the safest place to take a nap; I didn’t even take time to eat before I hid out.

Later that afternoon, Mom put up the Christmas tree. It was covered with little white lights, those beautiful glass balls, and other shiny ornaments. Well, snippity pippit! I instantly went into play mode again. What cat can resist climbing a tree, even if it is artificial? That’s the only thing trees are good for!

As soon as Mom left the room, I checked out the tree. I was able to slither up through the branches next to the trunk and made it almost all the way to the ceiling. Being very cautious, I ventured out onto one of the limbs. The tree rocked. That was fun! It didn’t take long to figure out that if I moved a little farther out on the branch, it would rock really hard, and that was a great ride. Mom must have been busy cooking or cleaning because I got to ride the Christmas tree, undisturbed, as long as I wanted.

The next day, Cheyenne and her dad came to see us. All kinds of mischief materialized in my mind. I quickly slid up through the branches of the Christmas tree, unobserved, to about three feet off the floor. Patiently, and then impatiently, I waited for just the right moment. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard opportunity coming toward me on four paws.

Unaware of her impending doom, Cheyenne walked up to the tree to check it out. Perfect! I charged toward the end of the branch and reached out as far as I could in an attempt to slap at her, but things didn’t go as I had planned. My weight and fast movement was just enough to cause the tree to tip over, and before I realized what was going on, the Christmas tree was on top of poor Cheyenne, and I was somewhere in the middle of the rubble. It was time to relocate once again, but my train didn’t depart fast enough. Mom walked through the door before I could free my body from the debris, and it was painfully obvious that I had caused the mayhem. Just as I rounded the corner and went out of sight, I heard her, for the second time, shriek, “Taffy Louise!” I’d been busted again.

The remainder of the Christmas holiday was so much fun. Dad came home, and lots of family and friends came to see us. The entire house looked good because Mom had decorated everything that stood still. It always smelled good because she baked every day. I stayed busy by trying to stay out of trouble. Well, I stayed busy.

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