Thank You, Thank You Very Much.

Dobby: Okay Mom. I'm here. (Dobby struts into the den). 

Oh my gosh! Dobby, what is that?

Dobby: I'm getting so popular now, I decided to wear a little something I can strut my stuff in. You know for the ladies... (Dobby turns around, modeling his copy of the well known white Elvis jumpsuit complete with jewels and high collar. Thank goodness he couldn't do the hair.)

Really? The white jumpsuit. You had to do the white jumpsuit thing?

Dobby: Yeah. It's classic! Look at what the costume place threw in! (Dobby struts over to a box almost as tall as he is and opens it.) See?

What?

Dobby: A minute please...Big moments like this take time. (Dobby reaches his head in and pulls out a white scarf with his teeth). See?

The scarf too?

Dobby: Yep, this whole box is full of them! That way when I see a pretty girl at my window I can rub my face on the scarf and throw it out to her. She'll catch it, sniff the scarf, swoon, put it around her own neck and never take it off again.

Kitty, you might be putting the cart before the horse just a little bit there. (Dobby looks at me in confusion unable to comprehend my expression.) It means that you are a wonderful, handsome, funny, lovable cat.

Dobby: But...

We just haven't gotten there yet. I'm thinking we have fewer readers then we had to begin with. (Mom reaches out to pet Dobby). It will be okay. You destined to be a STAR someday my dear. Right now you are the brightest star in my heart.

Dobby: I'm ready now. (Wailing)

You will be even more ready later.

Dobby: (looking up at Mom ponders this) You're right! Now I have time to find a wig that fits.

(Mom rolls eyes) Where does he get this stuff anyway? (Mom pets him more. Stroking the cat along the length of his back. She stops at the lump.) Umm...Dobby. There is something wrong back here.

How long have you had this jumpsuit on?

Dobby: I went to the basement and put it on a few minutes ago.

There is a...big lump in the back of the jumpsuit. I thought maybe you had an accident.

Dobby: Mom I'm six! I don't have that problem! It's my tail. Elvis didn't have a tail. I kind of hid mine. For...authenticity.

Sweetie you are a cat. Cats have tails. You'll feel better if you let yours loose in the back like it should be. Here. (Mom takes the stitch ripper and very gently pulls out the back seam a couple of inches to accommodate Dobby's tail. Mom tries to pull the tail through the hole but she can't seem to.) Dobby honey did you do something to your tail to hold it into place?

Dobby: Yep. Pony tail holders.

Dobby! (Mom turns him around, unzips the jumpsuit and quickly dumps him out of it grateful he has no nuts that might have gotten caught on the zipper. Dobby starts to run.) I mean business this time kitty! (Dobby stops and lays down on the floor—dead weight. Mom removes the pony tail holders at an alarming speed. Dobby runs away the minute Mom finishes—she yells after him) Pony tail holders are for hair not tails! (Mom is left sitting on the den floor alone muttering to herself). They are for hair not tails...how does he do this stuff? Hair not tails. HAIR NOT TAILS!

Dobby and The Basement

He is gone again. Every day that cat disappears. I always find him in the basement. Usually he comes slinking back up the basement stairs into the kitchen, belly to the floor looking guilty.

(Dobby enters the den) It's about time you showed up. Where have you been?

Dobby: Ummm... downstairs.

You have been spending a lot of time downstairs lately.

Dobby: And...

Why are you spending all of that time in the basement? You killed most of the crickets already. There are no mice or anything. What are you doing?

Dobby: Oh, you know just hanging out.

(Mom looks at Dobby with suspicion.) You hang out up here all of the time why do you need to go down there?

Dobby: Privacy?

Privacy? You have under the bed, two closets and various other “private” nooks and crannies to hide in. Why down there?

Dobby: Sometimes a guy needs some space. (Dobby leaves the den.)

Space? I go to work five days a week. Several hours a day. How much more space do you need? How much more space can this animal need? It's the catnip! He's growing his own now. My sweet kitty is not going to be a Nip dealer. No way. I'm going to have to watch, wait. Go down to the basement and catch him growing the stuff. If my electric bill is huge I going to have that cat's hide. (Once again to the people at PETA, this is just an expression). (Mom walks around the house looking in all of Dobby's hiding spots saying softy, “Dobby are you there?”) He's in the basement. (Mom slips on her flip flops and grabs the big red flashlight. She goes down the stairs step by step careful to make no noise. Mom finds Dobby sitting near the furnace in an upright position. Mom's battery operated candles are set out giving a gentle glow of light to the darkness surrounding him. Dobby's back legs are crossed and his front paws are pressed against each other in the sun salutation. Mom's jaw drops open in shock. She realizes her mistake, closing her mouth she quietly turns around and starts to make her way back up the stairs.)

Dobby: You don't have to go Mom. I feel better now that you know. I have been meditating. It really helps with the stress.

Stress? You have stress?

Dobby: Yes and this helps.

How did you pick this up?

Dobby: Well, I have been watching you a little bit. I also have discovered a new talent.

Really?

Dobby: I can use the television remote. I press the buttons with the tip of my tail. Of course you have to leave the remote out to where I can get it and you have to leave the Yoga dvd in the television. You see where this is going...

You have been teaching yourself Yoga?

Dobby: Yep. I am getting pretty good at it. You are going to have to work harder if you want to catch up with me.

Crap.

Dobby: Don't you want to stay and Yoga?

Not tonight. This calls for chocolate. (Mom lowers head and goes back upstairs.) Double Crap!

(There wasn't any chocolate in the house. That's what Mom says when there is no chocolate.)

Dobby: (Stands up and turns off the candles) It's okay guys. She's gone.

Dobby's Despair - Part II

I cried out but all that did was make the strange people and animals look at me more. A big black dog kept trying to sniff at me. His person kept pulling him back to her. Mom came back and sat down next to me, I think we were on a bench like the one I sit on in the den at home. Mom started talking to the other people in the room with us. The big black dog and her owner settled down across the room from us. This made it harder for the big black dog to sniff at me. I was grateful. Hearing Mom's voice made things a little better. Seeing other animals in the room just as worried as I was helped too. I would not be alone, whatever my fate. I cried out periodically to remind Mom who she came to this strange place with, she was awfully friendly with the dogs. Things were going well. Everyone was even talking about me, the best looking guy in the room. I turned my head forward so the strangers could admire me better, when the man with the little dog exclaimed, “My god would you look at the head on that thing.” My eyes widened wondering what kind of place this was anyway. Was there a new dog in the room? Was it...bigger than the last? Mom looked at me and said, “He is a big boy isn't he? I always thought he got big for a cat that has been fixed.”

They were talking about me! I couldn't believe it. I am male so I'm bigger than other cats. I always thought of myself as “stocky”. “Stocky” is good. I'm intimidating. A good protector for Mom. That man said it like I was some kind of circus freak or something. Well, you know what, big head...big brain. That man didn't even care that his little dog was shivering. It was freezing. At least I have a fur coat  and a warm towel to lay on. What did his prissy ass dog have? Not a damn thing. He calls himself an animal lover.

I was still figuring out what the hell we were doing here anyway. Hoping a year was a long time. I don't want to see this place again. It sucks. Animals and their people would be called away and then strange noises would be made. New people and animals would come in from outside. One man came in with a really big “puppy”. Mom petted him, the puppy not the man. He got so excited he tried to climb in her lap.  The puppy not the man. No one is allowed on Mom's lap. I don't even sit there much. You get comfortable and she stands up. Every time.

No I don't.

Dobby: Yes. You do.

It's your fault. You take too long to decide to sit on my lap.

Dobby: We finally were called back--- into the abyss. It was a room with those metal tables I hate. The last time we did this there was a strange man who kept playing with my butt. Mom let him.

He was cleaning your rectal glands for you.

Dobby: He didn't ask first. If he had asked I would have said “NO”. Anyway, I started crying out in protest, “Don't touch my butt. Stay away from my butt.” Mom let me out of the carrier and I came out slowly and bravely hoping that if I faced this heinous torture I would be allowed to go home with Mom. I love the obnoxious bitch.

I love you too, sweetie.

Dobby: Mom, please!

(Mom duck tapes her mouth—that's love right there)

Dobby: The strange man picked me up and put me on something he called a “scale”. Something on it lit up. The man and Mom looked at the bright numbers. Mom smiled and sounded more relaxed after that. They talked about food while he looked at my ears, eyes and teeth.

I thought he was okay. Then, he kept calling me a “she” and asked if I was twelve. 'Cuse me. Twelve? You think I'm twice my age and a girl? The first guy milks my butt the next guy can't tell I'm a boy cat...where is Mom finding these people? Someone help her...Please!

He poked a sharp stick into each hip. Stuck some really nasty muck down my throat he called “wormer”-- “just in case”. “Just in case?” Whoever heard of eating something so nasty if they don't have to? These humans are flipping crazy! Mom seemed lots happier. She opened the carrier door and I ran inside (you know casual like). She closed the door and said “home” a lot. We left the room and headed back for the door that led outside. Mom set me down just inside the door stopping at the counter. I cried out. “Don't stop! We are almost out of this stinking place. Mo-om!” I glared at the over friendly puppy still waiting with his human. The minute Mom picked up my carrier to leave I flipped that puppy the paw and was out of there. As I'd hoped my bravery had payed off. Mom looked at her options and decided to keep me after all. We were in the car and on our way home when Mom said, “I don't know if that bug spray is going to be dry yet. It's such a pretty day. Why don't we drive out to the farm and tell Grandma all about what a good kitty you were at the vet?” Was she nuts? I knew that coffee helped her sometimes. I didn't know it kept her sane. I cried out in protest, “No farm Mom. You need coffee. Home. Home now.” This time she listened and we went home.

(Removing duck tape from mouth) Are you done?

Dobby: Yes, Mom. That's it.

Okay. You know that trip was no picnic for me either. You have a really big mouth.

Dobby: Get it over it Mom. The world doesn't revolve around you. It's too busy revolving around me.

Really? Crap.

Dobby's Despair

Dobby are you ready?

Dobby: Ready. You have to put down what I tell you to no matter what. Are you sure you can do that Mom?

Yes. I can.

Dobby: Because Dad always said you could never repeat what someone tells you word for word.

Your Dad said lots of things. Let's not go there. Besides word for word is only important if you are a translator for a diplomat or someone who has publicists.

Dobby: That's definitely not you Mom.

That's what I told him. Did he listen? No...

Dobby: This is supposed to be about me. My day today and my adventure not whether you were a good wife or not.

I know. The past is in the past. Go ahead sweetie.

Dobby: Today started out early. Which was strange because it is a Saturday. Mom went to sleep late and got up early and she was...perky. Very perky. She didn't exercise, make coffee or shower. Just got dressed. She petted me a lot and was perky. Without the coffee. Perky. I should have known something was amiss.

Amiss? Well isn't that a fancy word?

Dobby: Mom, do you really have to criticize my vocabulary? Amiss-something is not in it's correct order.

Most men would agree with that. What about amister?

Dobby: Not a word, Mom.

Really? Crap.

Dobby: I found Mom in the kitchen. Humming a tune. I stood in the doorway and rubbed against the frame showing my love and devotion to our happy home. She came over, bent down, petted me a little. Scooped me up and it was over. Before I knew it I was locked up in the carrier. I was at her mercy and I knew it. I howled in despair. I cried. I pushed against the cold, metal door with my nose to no avail.

Mom made what she thought was reassuring noises and left the room returning with cat treats which she rudely tossed at me through the door.

Dobby: There was no way milk flavored treats could repair such betrayal. I cried for “Help” with everything I had. Mom kept saying things in a happy way like. “You get to go for a ride today.” “It's going to be so much fun.” “You are such a good boy.” “You won't have to do this again for a year at least.” Cheerful and smiling the whole time. The Bitch. She took me outside and put me in the car. Leaving me inside—alone. She was gone for Five Whole Minutes.

Excuse me. I'll have you know I spent that five minutes spraying the house for bugs. Too many spiders have been coming in. I wanted the spray to be dried by the time we came back in the house. That inhumane five minutes means we have a nicer home. Ungrateful...

Dobby: Mom. You promised...

(Mom is muttering and banging on the keyboard)

Dobby: Mom!

Okay. It's okay. I'm done carrying on. It's fine. Really.

Dobby: She got in the car and took me somewhere far, far away.

More like three miles. (rolling eyes)

Dobby: My heart was racing, my stomach rolled it was difficult not to poop. She got tired of me. She was dumping me. I knew it. This morning was my last meal. I tried to breathe more slowly, relax. I had been on my own before. I could do it again. I laid down on my stomach and tucked my paws under me. Closing my eyes, I meditated knowing I would open them awake and ready to face my changed living arrangements when the moment came. Besides, I am a master at sucking up. I will be set up in another house in no time.

The car went over something really loud startling me. I yowled. So embarrassing. I thought I had myself together. One loud noise and I lost my cool. The car stopped. I braced myself for my new life.

Mom continued sounding cheerful and telling me how wonderful I was. Am I really that hard to live with? She took me into a strange place. It smelled of animals all kinds. Not the barn smell Mom sometimes brings home from the farm either. This one was different. A dog looked at me, another dog looked at me. Mom set the carrier down and I was alone.

Mom Frustrations

-->

Okay Dobby! What else is on the list for potential songs to play when the Opportunity

sensor gets tripped.

Dobby: Just leave it where it's at.

That song is too sexual. I don't want the Faeries to think I'm some kind of a slut.

Dobby: Mom. They are Faeries, as in magical creatures, who cares?

Nice women don't talk about sex.

Dobby: Mom. (puts paw on Mom's arm) You talk about sex all the time since Dad died. That ship has sailed.

Really? (Mom sits down) I'm a slut?

Dobby: You are just verbally um ...loose. Yeah. That's it. Loose. Mom...are you okay?

Um...yes Dobby I'm fine. Just adjusting my view of myself a little bit. I'm still normal?

Dobby: You're talking to a cat Mom. How normal do you expect to be?

I guess you're right. I just have to learn to accept being so verbally loose. I'm not a tease then?

Dobby: You are so shy you hardly look at men. To be a tease you would have to touch them. (Anticipating another question) The same answer goes for flirting. If you have trouble looking at men clearly you don't talk to them much.

So I'm still good.

Dobby: You are still good.

Good.

Dobby: Everything is good.

(Awkward Silence...)

Dobby: Why aren't you writing now?

I can't think of anything. I'm too busy not thinking about sex.

Dobby: Even if you are thinking about not thinking about something, you're still thinking about it.

So basically, I'm trying too hard.

Dobby: Duh! (crosses eyes)

I have a question about the magic door.

Dobby: What?

What kind of opportunity should I look for?

Dobby: What?

What kind of opportunity will the magic bring?

Dobby: The magic doesn't control what type of opportunity comes along Mom. It just lets you know it's there. Understand?

Yes.

Dobby: Good.

So, um...how is this helping exactly?

Dobby: (Takes out human adoption contract—picks up pen with tail and writes in the Disclaimer – “Those odd days when nothing your human says makes any sense.”) Dobby thinks hard to count up the lives he's used and realizes he's only on the first one. This is gonna take a while...

Distracted

Dobby: Mom. What are you doing?

Writing. What does it look like I'm doing?

Dobby: Watching the new door.

How long do I have to wait until something happens?

Dobby: As long as it takes. (Puts paw up to face—I love using her own expressions against her. I don't even know what I just said. It's driving Mom crazy.)

(Mom hops up and down on chair) I don't want to wait. Opportunity is taking too long. Make it do something! (whines) I'm not getting any younger!

Dobby: You're not maturing very quickly either.

It's a Magic Door! I've never had a magic door before. I'm excited!!

Dobby: (Pulls out human adoption paperwork to check the fine print-- “I don't remember anything about childish behavior when magic is involved in this Disclaimer. I see seasonal depression, pre-menstrual syndrome, post menstrual syndrome, other hormonal changes in normal human females that we have no clue what they are about because we are cats.”) Mom you have to stop acting this way. It isn't in the fine print.

Really?

Dobby: Really.

(Mom turns back around and looks at the computer monitor.) Slumps in chair and pulls up Twitter.

Dobby: (consulting paperwork) Pouting. Pouting is allowed Mom but only for 25 seconds.

(Sighs)

Kevin walked into Hannah's back yard at precisely four p.m. It was just 94 degrees that day but the humidity made it feel much hotter. Kevin had dressed lightly in thin shorts and a tank top. After so many years in business attire he felt half naked and a little vulnerable. Hannah saw Kevin immediately welcoming him with a light hug and a cold drink.

“There you are.”

“Yes.”

“Comfortable?”

“I feel naked.”

“Sweetie when it's this hot and sticky out, we all dress as lightly as we can without breaking any laws or moral codes. Besides you were the same way the first time we got you into a pair of jeans.” Hannah leaned in to say. “You've got nothing to be ashamed of just watch out for my friends. Some of those women are cougars. I don't know where they get such outrageous behavior.”

“You teach it to them and you know it old woman.” Pops said grinning broadly.

“You know everyone here so go ahead and say 'Hello' Beau is waiting to talk to you.” With a slap on his ass Hannah sent Kevin off to greet the other guests.

Dobby, kitty, come here! I hear something!

  Dobby:  (listening)  Call me Maybe?
What's that? (Mom points to the new door which is glowing around the edges)
  Dobby: The fairies must have picked that song to play when the sensor is tripped.
   Why that song?
  Dobby:  They asked who I was building it for and I had to be interviewed by a committee and the committee decides what music to use.  (Dobby opens door)  Dobby's brown duster is folded neatly just inside the door).  See?  That is the signal.  The fairies were testing the system.  I'll just text them that the sensor worked...
Dobby how can you text when you don't have thumbs and you aren't using your tail?
   Dobby:  Special Faerie Phone with a paw print shaped Catadaptor.  I can only use it to talk to them.
Can you ask them to change the song?
   Dobby:  Yes.  The committee made a list of songs.  I'll just pick from the list.  I think this one is more you.

Really?  I'm your Mother.  Don't say things like that about me.
   Dobby:  Can we finish this later?  It's time for my bath.
Just so you know this isn't over.
   Dobby:  I know.

Saturday Night -- The Magic Door

Well Dobby,  it looks like Fall is coming for a visit.  The gray clouds have been drifting in and out all day.  I think they are staying for a while now.
   Dobby:  Why isn't anything written?
 Inspiration has to strike.
   Dobby:  I'll bite you if you think it will help.
 No thanks.
   Dobby:  You want to wait?
I'll ask you to bite me if I get desperate, okay?
   Dobby: (Muffled "okay")  Just sharpening my teeth a little, you know just in case.  Mom I have been thinking about the blog.  You started this blog with me and included a really bad romance.  Wouldn't more people read "our" stuff if we made the whole romantic story available?
They might Dobby.  That was what I was thinking about too.  I am trying to figure out how to post them in a way that can show up sequentially.
   Dobby:  We definitely need to start people from the beginning.  But how?
I'm trying to figure it out.  I'm reading the help section.  No luck so far.  I think it's a problem we are just going to have to keep working on.
    Dobby:  (leaves room)
    Mom putters on the Internet for a while thinking about how tired she is.
   Dobby: (looks in room--sees she is off Twitter and at Pinterest--smacks top of head with paw and runs it down his face in frustration)  That doesn't look like the blog.
 (Mom looks down)  Dobby I didn't see you there honey.  Isn't that pendant cute. It says, "If opportunity doesn't knock build a door."  There's a little pendant that looks like a door right next to it.  I would reference it as is appropriate for these things.  I am fairly sure reference guidelines have yet to be set up for Pinterest.
  Dobby:  I think it's time to bite you Mom.  You need to wake up and smell the coffee.
 No thanks,  I just finished my third cup.  So it isn't a coffee thing.
Dobby:  (leaves room--returns with wood, nails, goggles, a saw and a tool box--leaves and comes back with a radio)  Plugs in radio and cranks it...
  (Mom covers her ears)  Oh my ears!  What is that?
  Dobby:  Some music.  I want to inspire you.
To do what?  Leave the room?
   Dobby:  I'll turn it down.
You turned that down with the end of your tail.  Very good.
   Dobby:  I can use my tail sometimes.  It's a good way to compensate for the missing thumbs.
Nice.  (Mom is imagining things he might learn---scooping his own litter box,  fishing his own toys out from under the furniture...)
   Tap, tap...SMACK!  Tap, tap...SMACK!
Hey!  What are you doing?
   Dobby:  I am going to inspire you.
I think you should get a job at a local house for recovering alcoholics.  Every time they slip up you could go "inspire" them.  The person will have such a headache they will NEVER drink again.  (Dobby glares at Mom).  It was just a thought.  (Mom goes back to computer and pretends to be writing--looks over shoulder a lot to see what Dobby is doing--one hour later)
    Dobby:  Okay Mom you can look.
(Mom turns around to find a door)  It's a door.  A kitty sized door.  (opens door--sees wall).
    Dobby:  I built a door. I wanted to try a wormhole but all of that quantum physics might have taken years to work out.  You don't own this house either.  I would have hated if you had been sued because  I screwed  up.  This is how I feel about things:  I don't think you should wait for opportunity to find you. You should find it.  Actually you two should find each other.  I think this will help.
Sweetie...even with a door, which is the most wonderful creative door I could imagine--thank you; there is still a wall behind it.
   Dobby:  That's because it's a magic door.  It has an ultra-sensitive solar powered sensor programmed to detect opportunity.  When it detects opportunity it will make a sound like this, "(sirens)  Get up off your butt and open the door before opportunity gets away.  Don't wait for it to knock.  UP OFF YOUR BUTT!"
This will work?
    Dobby: (takes a knowledgeable defensive stance)  Mom,  I know what I'm doing.  Besides the fairies gave me the blueprints and assured me these magical doors work. (starts putting tools away-loudly)
Which fairies?
     Dobby:  You know, the fairies!  That magical crap is your department.  I am a perfectly normal cat with four paws on the ground.  I only do what any other cat does.
Really?
     Dobby: Ye-ah! (sarcasm...)  We don't do it around humans because you bug us enough when we're trying to sleep the way it is. 


     

Dobby, I Have...No Title

You know Dobby,  I've been thinking about the shoot-out the other day.  Technically, you didn't draw anything.
    Dobby:  (enters den with academic glasses on)  You are right I did not draw a picture.  I "withdrew" a "picture" from the pocket of my way cool brown leather duster.
A brown coat.  I don't remember seeing you in a brown coat.
    Dobby:  No Mom.  Not a brown coat.  A "duster"  like this.  With a graceful flourish of his front leg and paw a brown duster appears out of thin air.
(Mom glances from side to side suspiciously)  No hidden cameras.   How are you doing that?
     Dobby:  Mom.  Please.  One question at a time.  (with another flourish of his cat like reflexes the duster disappears into a cloud of...dust, what else?).  (Walking back and forth across the room like a brilliant professor thinking out loud).   What was I saying?  I "withdrew" a "picture" as opposed to your more literal pencil drawing.  Since drawing and a picture were involved I did honor the spirit of the exercise.  As a result you admitted defeat when you came home from work with the agreed upon "tasty" cat food.

Exhibit A.  Tasty brightly colored cat food.  Mixed in with Mom approved healthy crap.
  Dobby: (continues)  Which you immediately added to the food you prefer for me so I would not eat too much of the good stuff.  I started eating my prize last night.  Taking that fact into consideration, shall I keep my win on record?  Or do you want to start picking all that kibble out of my food bin and then start watching the litter box for the rest?
Okay.  You get to keep the win.  This time.  I'm watching you.  Closely.
  Dobby:  I know Mom.  I want you to know I have to work very hard to pull the wool over your intensely sharp eagle eyes.
At least you have to work at it.
  *Deep Philosophical Thought:  Handle a child like you would a burglar.  At some point you really can't stop them.  You can always slow them down.  If you are lucky, they will get tired, give up and move on the next house.  (Wait that didn't come out right...)
   Dobby:  It's okay Mom (cat rubs against Mom's leg with his face).  You can try again tomorrow.
   Dobby:  How about some of that cheezy romance of yours?

Okay.  Here we go.

     Jesse returned to her office determined to fix this mess the bakery was in.   Like many businesses the Stillings Family Bakery had good years and bad ones.  The bakery had been running almost as long as the town had existed and had a large, loyal following in the Tri-county area.  Profits were based on quantity.  Selling low priced high quality baked goods in a very large quantity.  The family philosophy was if you didn't sell your friends and neighbors a quality item at a reasonable price you wouldn't be the only kid on the block.  Eventually you would be asked to leave the block too.  The Stillings Family Bakery was just that; the only bakery in a fifteen mile radius and the best bakery in three counties.  Jesse didn't want to be the Stillings who let the bakery go under.
     She thought one more time about repairing the apartment, moving in and renting out her family home.  After what happened here?  That was no longer an option.  Jesse looked over the sticky notes of ideas littering the desk.  Rent out the main house. Nope.  She threw that one out.  Sell the main house.  Never! Sell the bakery building and lease it at cost from the new owner.  Too iffy.  Sell Dad's car.  Hmm...sell Dad's car.  Cameron Marshall may have married into the family but he loved the business every bit as much as her mother.  The same way Uncle Carl and Aunt Terri do.  She would have to double check with the attorney but Jesse was fairly sure the car had been a separate inheritance and not part of the house and bakery that are specifically noted as having to stay in the family.  Could Jesse make enough selling the car to repair the apartment and possibly have some left over to fill financial gaps until the holidays? 
***    
  At 3pm the phone rang, waking Kevin out of his sleep.  "Yeah."
     "Kevin?  Are you still sleeping?  It's practically dinner time."
     Kevin opened his eyes enough to read the clock.  After they adjusted anyway.  "I still have two hours, maybe more."
     "Pops and I are barbecuing today.  You're already late."
     "Huh?"
     "We're eating at four o'clock with or without you.  Beau said he picked up some more info about Jesse at church today."
     "Beau was in church?"
     "Don't question the miracle just be grateful for the reward.  In this case, help with your girl."
    "Thanks Hannah.  I'll be there by four."
   The call disconnected.  Kevin looked at his cat, Mr. Freeze who had been woken from his nap and was taking a late bath.
     "It looks like I need to get going.  Don't worry about me.  I'm going to hit the shower."  Kevin said.
    Mr. Freeze glared back.
      "I'll bring you a hot dog or something."  He got out of bed and headed for the master bath.


    


 

Coffee in the Den--Supplemental

(Dobby comes into the den)
  Dobby:  Mom, I want you to know I love you very much.  I tried really hard.  This food bites and I'm not eating it. (Ptchoo--a piece of kibble gets shot on to the floor).
Yes.  You are.
   Dobby: No, I'm not.  (Ptchoo--another kibble bounces off the top of Mom's foot).
Yes.  You are.
   Dobby: (Ptchoo, ptchoo, ptchoo the cat shoots kibble out of his mouth and it ricochets off of Mom's shin.
Ouch!
  Dobby:  Sorry Mom but we're doing this my way now.
Really?

   (There is a strange whistling in the air--)

(Mom looks out from under her cowboy hat) You don't have what it takes to run this house FE-LINE.
  Dobby:  (John Wayne impression)  Maybe not little lady, but I do have nine lives.   Do you?

 

Tom Petty- I Won't Back Down

Dobby:  I have a theme song too.   Did I mention the theme song?

Crap.  The shooter with the kick-ass theme song always wins.  :(

Draw pussy!

(Mom takes out paper and pencil and draws furiously--tongue sticking out as she concentrates.)

(Dobby stands in one spot.  Licks paw.  Wipes face.  Adjusts hat.  Straightens gun belt.  Waits...)

Time! (Mom proudly holds up her drawing of very curvy girl kitty--Dobby's eyes bug out--for a second--he's not dead is he?)

Dobby:  Mom just go get the tasty cat food.  Give up!

Why? 

Dobby:  So I don't have to put this on Facebook and share it. (holding up picture of Mom in hot rollers)

No!

Dobby:  I will. (Dobby looks at picture) At first I though aliens had invaded then I saw you putting the clips away after the curlers had cooled off.  I figured it out.  :)

You are never allowed to use that picture against me again.  It's off the table.  You know that.  It's in the Mischief Honor Code.  

Dobby:  Yes.  I know.  (Paw to face--Mom's idea)  Everyone knows that there is no honor in mischief.

Coffee in the Den

I feel so much better this morning.  I'm so glad I waited to post this.  I'm getting coffee.

  **Musical Interlude**  "Reach Up For The Sunrise"  Duran Duran.

So Dobby, are you ready?
  Dobby: Ready. (rubbing mom's leg)
(Dobby sniffing at the coffee cup)
 Dobby!  Nose!
  Dobby: (backs away)  Sorry Mom.  I forgot.  I'm really glad we are spending time together like this.  I have been wanting to talk to you about something. (leaves the room)
(returns; spits something onto the floor at her feet) What is this supposed to be?
(Mom bends over to get a better look)  That's your food.  The same stuff you always get.
   Dobby:  No it's not.  Where are the funny shaped ones?  The pretty colors?
The pet books and documentaries say those were created by the pet food industry to make owners feel good about the food they are giving their pets.
You aren't supposed to see the difference.
  Dobby:  They taste better.  When something actually tastes good we learn what it looks like.  Don't you?
Yes.  I do.  I only give you the pretty stuff to keep your hairballs down.  It's not good for you except for that.
  Dobby: It has flavor. 
It has corn meal and other stuff that puts on the fat and doesn't do much else.
(Mom points down to the little brown kibble on the floor)  That is your primary diet.
   Dobby:  No way...
Way!  You get other good stuff.  I give you a little bit of lunch meat when I make a sandwich.
   Dobby:  One lick and it's gone.  I don't even taste that.
I give you treats.
  Dobby: One a day.  Wow...
You are just too good at sarcasm.
 I stand by my cat food choices.  I ran out of the hairball formula kibble.  I will get to the store in a couple of days and get some more to mix in with the healthier food.  Until then...learn to like those more.  (Mom points to the little brown kibble).

   Dobby: Harsh. She is so cranky.  Is this because that man you like doesn't like you?
NO!
   Dobby:  Looks like I've got my answer.
Although I am not happy with you about your little deception.  Lying to me so you could keep your catnip "stash".  Lying is bad.  Especially to your mother. 
   Dobby:  I didn't think you'd take me seriously.  You were really excited?  I thought you just liked him because so many other women do.  Just following along.
I know.  I'll get over it.  (sniffles)  Just like you need to get over the healthy kibble.
  Dobby: (putting paw to face)  Mom thinks she just taught me something.  (winks)

***
   Jesse turned her attention away from her aunt and uncle's flirting.    Turning on her computer she got up and wandered over to the other side of the second floor.  The ruined apartment.  If there was only a way to find the money to fix this place up again.  Jesse shuddered at the thought of renting the studio apartment out again regardless of the financial necessity.  The realization that yes even a grandmother will lie to find a place for their grandchild to live.  Even a grown one with a criminal record.
   The walls were still torn apart here and there from the local drug task force's raid on the place.  The only blessing was that the judge would only grant the warrant for the second floor.  The raid took place just before midnight.  The bakery itself was undisturbed and it's reputation was kept in tact.    Jesse's reputation was only tainted by the rumor that she was naive and had poor judgment at times.  She had gotten off easy.  Things could have been so much worse.

A New First

So Dobby here we are.  We are officially a blogging team.  How do you feel about it?
    Dobby: (Closes his eyes in contentment)  It was inevitable.
 We can reach more people this way and I will spend less time at the computer.
    Dobby:  That's why I told you to do it.
 Sorry sweetie but I made the decision to do this.  I was playing with the idea and some really wonderful people encouraged me.  Here we are!  Wow.  Amazing.  Did you ever think when we started this we would end up expanding to a blog?
    Dobby:  I was hoping you would have gotten to the point by now.
(Rolls eyes).  We are having fun.  There doesn't have to be a point.  :)
    Dobby:  I am witty with a biting sense of humor.   You really couldn't do this without me.
 Not as well as we have been doing together.
    Dobby:  I am the driving force behind our success.
 What?  What success?
     Dobby: The success that is coming.
 Whatever.  Let's just have some fun.
     Dobby:  I think since it is such an important night I should pick the topic.
 Topic?
     Dobby:  We have topics haven't you noticed?
 Not really...
     Dobby: Let's try one anyway.  The topic is:  Our Dream House.
 Why?
     Dobby:  You have been helping Aunt Bridget look at houses.  It got me thinking about what I need in a home.  What I want?
 What you want?  You're a cat.
    Dobby: You just keep rubbing it in.  Every chance you get rub, rub, rub.
Okay what did you want for our "dream" home. (Why argue?  We are never going to have one.)
     Dobby:  I want windows so I can see outside.  Like I can here.
Okay.
      Dobby:  I like watching the big yellow thing drive up and the short ones go to it and get on.  I like watching the short ones come back too.
So you hope this house is on a school bus route.  I can live with that.
       Dobby:  Because I am so important to your continued success...
Success?  Where?
       Dobby:  (rolls eyes) As I was saying,  I want my own room.  :)
(Mom pretends to think about it)  No.  Next.
       Dobby:  Why not?
 You already have my room.  Why do you need two of them?
        Dobby:  Girls.
Girls?  Female kitties?
         Dobby:  The girls won't talk to you if they know you sleep in the same bed with your mom.  It's not cool.
(Thinking again).  Are you the same cat that was giving everyone advice about women just a month ago?  If I remember right,  you were even giving Nathan Fillion words of encouragement.
          Dobby: (Looks down)  Well, yeah but things have changed.
How?
          Dobby: The girls around here found out about that.  They decided I would have to work a lot harder to see any:  um...tail.
Seriously...
          Dobby: Mom...
You would go to all of this trouble to so a female cat will sit on the outside our windows and preen a little for you?
           Dobby:  Um...yeah.
How will having your own room change your life?
            Dobby:  It will be the smallest bedroom in your beautiful
picture perfect house.  (Mom rolls eyes).  It will have a floor to ceiling cat tower with toys, lots of levels for climbing and sleeping cubbies.  You know so I can keep in shape.  My litter box will be in there.  In a custom cabinet that looks a lot like the Batmobile.  The blanket chest will be sitting at the window with the best view.  When the girls walk by, I'll wave.  Turn around in a pretty guy cat circle and Meow to them,  "This is my room.  I have my own room."  I'll rub up against a bilingual sign (English/ Cat language--which is mostly 'meows' of some sort) that say DSP--Dobby's Scratch Pad.  Get it Dobby's Scratch Pad?  I'm a cat and we scratch?
  Of course.  Nice job with that.  What happens then?
              Then they say all kinds of things like, "I never knew you had your own room" and "You are the hottest guy on the block." After that they preen. (Dobby purrs).
That's pretty amazing.  I guess you'll just have to have your own room.  (I have been shopping for new dinnerware for the last two years.  How long would it take me to buy a house...oh well.  We're just talking about it for fun.)  Okay.  Now that we have that settled what I would like in a house is...
    Dobby:  Mom it's late we're out of time.
Really?  Crap.



       

Saturday Night Silliness Sept. 6 2012

-->

It's time for tweeting yeah.

(points to Dobby) There u r. Hi watcha doing? What's up Buttercup!

(Dobby leaves room)

Was it something I said?

Crap :( What do I do now?

(Dobby returns) Oh boy. Oh boy. :)

I'm thinking maybe I should have not have had that cup of coffee earlier this evening.

Dobby: Ya think?

I'm excited.

Dobby: Gassy too. (making face)

The coffee didn't sit well. I got excited today. My sister is house shopping. She found an especially good one. Well, probably.

Houses in really good shape for a reasonable price are hard to find. Why do u think I rent?

Dobby: Because you don't like work. Anything that looks like work, smells like it has been near work...

I'm kick a** with a paint brush. Don't start.

I kick a** too. :)

but only with a paint brush.

Dobby. Kitty, kitty.

I don't feel funny tonight.

Dobby: (reaches up and touches Mom's arm) I hate to tell u this Mom but u don't feel normal either.

I mean I don't feel like I can be funny tonight.

Dobby: Someone thinks ur funny? (mom opens mouth to answer) Dobby: Besides Grandma.

Crap! You've got me there. I am going back to our story. I hope u can come up with something.

Dobby: I'll see if I can find a hairball or something.

"You do have a point." Aunt Terri said. "What do you want to do this morning?"

Jesse looked around the small shop. Things were in perfect order as usual. There really was nothing for her to do.

"I know I won't get back to sleep if I go home. I guess I'll go upstairs and work on some things." Jesse went up to the second floor.

It was outfitted with an office on one side and an efficiency apartment on the other. Jesse could hear her aunt and uncle working in the kitchen downstairs. Arguing too.

"Too much responsibility. The family bakery and the home was too much responsibility for a nineteen year old. She should have spent these last ten years living in cramped apartments in the city and going to too many parties with her friends, like other people in their twenties. I never understood Cameron and Ava leaving the family "legacy" in her keeping. It was completely unfair and thoughtless of them."

"It is tradition. The oldest child in the family cares for the bakery and the house. Then, the oldest child leaves it to their oldest. My family has been doing it this way for nearly one hundred years Carl."

Dobby: I see Paris. I see France. I can't see ur underpants. What a relief!

"Traditions can be changed." Uncle Carl shouted.

"Do you think Ava and Cameron planned to die so young? Our parents and all of our grandparents lived well into their eighties." Aunt Terri continued, "Jesse has always been exceptionally intelligent and focused. If someone had to take the reins early be glad it was her. Besides, she isn't alone in this. She has always had us."

"The bakery, the house, this family will get through the slump. Jesse never makes bad decisions."

"There have been times I was sure that girl was crazy. But everything she tries works out." Uncle Carl sounded like he was smiling.

"Which comes to my next point." Aunt Terri said. "Why are you giving Jesse such a hard time about the new guy in town?"

"I have to get these donuts finished." Uncle Carl tried dismissing the conversation.

Aunt Terri crossed to room to stand in front of him. "What's wrong with him?"

"Terri, the donuts."

"Carl."

"You're not going to let this go are you?" Uncle Carl asked.

"Nope." Jesse could visualize Aunt Terri folding her arms in determination.

"I just don't think all that fancy polish is right for our girl."

"If she falls for him. He will take her back to New York, L.A., Paris, London wherever he came from. I don't want her to go."

"Jesse is a grown woman. We have to respect her choices. We both know "our" girl. She won't go anywhere she doesn't want to. She will always find her way home. Love Jesse enough to trust her, Carl. I do."

It got quiet. Jesse felt guilty for listening to their conversation. It was reassuring to hear them talking as closely as ever.

"How long am I going to have to wait for those donuts?" Aunt Terri asked. Jesse heard a towel snap. It had a crack like a bull whip.

"OOO...feels good baby." Jesse giggled and blushed at the sound of Uncle Carl's joke. There are some things you don't want to hear in life no matter how old you get.

TTFN