My boys call me the cat lady. But I have to explain. Nope, I’m not a cat burglar, instead I have three absolutely adorable cats. Each creature has his/ her own individual story to tell.
Let me start at the beginning. We raised four children and various pets: cats, dogs, fish. I even think my oldest cultivated a nest of garter snakes, but knowing how I feel about those things, I doubt he’ll ever admit to it. When I had to put our last and longest pet, a wonderful collie dog to sleep and I had tell the kids, who by that time had left the nest, my husband and I decided, after many tears, that absolutely, under no circumstances, no way, would we ever have another pet.
We retired and moved south, as did our only daughter and her family. One night, at about ten o’clock, our granddaughter called her grandfather, tears coloring her tones, to tell him her cat had taken a bite out of her dad’s hand. Sobbing, she insisted he was going to throw the cat outside. In her weepy voice she begged grandpa to take her cat. She promised to feed, bathe, and play with him if we would take him.
Of course, what is a grandpa to do? We took him. After nearly twenty years of no pets we suddenly had a beautiful orange fellow who liked to bite. Eventually all three of us adjusted nicely, and life moved along for several years.
One night our second son, who works for a big box store called with a sad tale. The night before he and his staff had heard what sounded like a baby crying but they couldn’t find the source. They did find a tiny black kitten, deserted by his mother and any siblings he might have had hidden in the stock room under metal shelving. Since all our kids are crazy about animals, he had to save the poor little thing and was going to bring it home to the local animal shelter.
This time I volunteered. We would take the orphan and see how the little one and our big guy got along. Wally, a slim, trim tuxedo is still with us. He doesn’t bite, he loves to play, and the back of my recliner is one of his favorite places to sleep. He and our big guy get along just fine.
So we come to our third feline addition. The only female of the bunch was not at all what I thought we would get. Our big guy was getting old and Wally is young and wants to play – a lot. I thought we really ought to add to our animal family and look for another kitten, one who could grow up with Wally and be a companion to him because I’m not too sure how much more time our big guy will have.
We made a trip to our vet and while I studied the kittens available for adoption, this crossed-eyed silver Siamese tiger mix jumped into my husband lap and there she stayed.
The staff at the clinic stared in amazement. That particular cat had been at the vet’s for two years, had refused to pay any attention to people interested in cats by running into a vacant operating room and hiding on a shelf. When she was displayed on the days for animal adoption, she curled in the corner of her cage and ignored everyone. She had plenty of personality but according to the vet’s assistant she had ‘issues’. My husband said, “Forget the kitten, we’ll take this one.”
I murmured something about we would try and we took her home. The story isn’t yet the happy ending I had hoped. Yes, we still have our big guy, we have Wally, and Celine, the crossed-eyed silver Siamese are all in residence. But Wally and Celine still don’t play together, she runs, and our big guy just looks at both the youngen’s and I swear he sighs. All three cats take turns sleeping on our bed, they all three absolutely love to sprawl across our desks, they will, on occasion, crawl into our laps and they do keep us compa ny.
I only wish they wouldn’t decide they needed attention when I’m trying to write a difficult scene or spread themselves over all my research notes on my desk. I especially find their individual fascination with my printer to be a problem. More than once I’ve had to grab a curious cat to save the animal or my printer. Living with modern technology, cats and writing a compelling romance has turned out to be a bit more difficult than I imagined. They have however, from the first to the newest, been a real source of amusement and entertainment. I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I’ll figure out a way to keep them out of the printer and off my desk so I can continue to write my historical romances.
“Battlesong” my second medieval romance is now available from Champagne Books, “Heartsong” the first medieval romance is also available from Champagne Books, and if the cats stay off my desk, I just might get “Windsong” the third in the series finished.
To read excerpts or learn more about my books, visit me at www.AllisonKnight.com