“He has his own baby dragon to play
with.” Writer Lady repeats, looking at Tinkletoes and TP. “Dylan's
right. How many cats are not only named after a character in a book
but have a character in a book patterned after them?”
“Yes, Writer Lady, that could
work.” TP agrees rubbing his chin.
“I don't like it. It's too soft.”
Tinkletoes says.
“You don't like
anything that isn't your idea do you?” Writer Lady asks.
Tinkletoes
starts to argue, stops and thinks. He opens his mouth to speak, gets
a confused look on his face and shuts it again. “I'm going to come
up with something for next week. When I do you'll be the one
standing here, looking foolish,” he stalks out of the house
slamming the door.
The next day, Writer Lady is sitting
at the computer in High Command when Dobby enters the room.
“So um...Mom? I've been thinking.”
Dobby says.
“Yes kitty.”
“With next week being the 100th
post and everything. I was wondering...”
“Wondering what?” Writer Lady asks
not stopping to look away from the monitor.
“If we can do some special things. I
have a list.” Dobby jumps up on to the desk, pulls a sheet of
paper up and sits it in front of Writer Lady's monitor.
“Now?” Writer Lady asks, leaning in
to read. “Tuna steaks with catnip,
champagne on ice, popcorn with butter, freshly dipped chocolates.
Fancy cupcakes. Why?”
“For our 100th post. We
must par-tay.”
“I would like very much to “par-tay”
but are six bodyguards necessary?”
“The women love me. What can I say?”
“No?” Writer Lady continues
reading. “You want a venue? Why do you need a venue? We always
write here at home.”
“There are going to be lots more
people.” Dobby announces.
“Really? How many more are you
expecting?”
“100. At least.”
“100 people?” Writer Lady asks.
“At least.” Dobby reiterates.
“Where are these 100 people going to
come from?”
“Oh...um...all over. I'm a really
cool cat.”
“There is no question in my mind you
are cool. The shining star of my heart. I just don't know where you
are going to find so many other people who feel the same way.”
“I will. Mom. Don't worry about
that. You have a lot of other stuff to do. Keep reading.”
“You will be wearing the various
costumes showcased in the first 100 posts. There is supposed to be a
musical montage dedicated to you and your antics. You want a red
carpet? Live tweeting?” Writer Lady stops reading and announces to
Dobby. “Kitty this is a 100th post celebration not an
awards show.”
“Keep reading.” Dobby says.
“There will an award to the house cat
who most embodies the playfulness, intelligence and purrsonality
of our own beloved Dobby?”
“I'm calling it the Furball.”
Dobby says, rolling a ball of his hair along the desk so Writer Lady
can see it.
“Why can't we just do it here at the
house?”
Dobby pulls the first page down
leaving another list in Writer Lady's field of vision.
“The people on this list are actors
and entertainers. Dobby, I don't think the President of the United
States is available to give you a Lifetime Achievement Award.”
“I have this all worked out.”
Dobby says.
“Okay. I have some questions. Who
is going to set up the venue with seating, decorations and the food?”
Writer Lady asks.
“We'll hire a caterer.” Dobby
says producing a stack of catering brochures.
Writer Lady starts glancing at the
information. “This sounds like a big deal. How are we going to
pay the caterer?”
“Sponsors.”
“Sponsors? How are we going to get
these sponsors? How will we sell their products?”
“We are going to televise.”
Dobby says.
“Televise?”
“Who is going to watch a televised
celebration for the 100th post of a blog about a woman, a
fantastically lovable cat and his friends as well as the fictional
characters that have some how come to life in their house?”
“That's where the 'guests' come
in.” Dobby answers.
“Oh you mean...the entertainers and
actors in the audience?”
“Viewers will tune in to see them.
They will get curious about me. I'll trend.
They'll find the blog. In one stupendous night I will be
famous.” The air grows heavy, standing up, Dobby's shadow enlarges
to an alarming size, his deepened voice bellows, “MWAAHAHAHAAAAA.”
“Well. That was disturbing.”
Writer Lady mumbles.
The air in the room loses weight and a light harmonic melody begins to play in the background
reminding us of a simpler time. Hot dogs, baseball, apple pie and
the comforting knowledge that no matter how wonderful dinner was
there is always room for Jell-o. “Come on Mom. I'm Me! I'm
amazing. You have never met another cat like me. I'm completely
lovable.” Dobby says. “That's what the people want a lovable
character.”
“That's true.” Writer Lady admits.
“Kitty, I'm afraid you just aren't there yet. I wish you would
stop pushing for something so big. You don't get to enjoy the simple
things in life that way.”
“Yeah.” Dobby groans, lowering his
head.
“Seriously kitty. Let's just sit
together and enjoy a hot cup of tea. The quiet of a winter evening.
Our impending accomplishment. I never thought we would continue this
blog to 100 posts. Did you?”
Thinking
for a moment, “I
never thought you could stay focused this long Mom. It
is truly amazing.” Dobby
says with gravity.
2 comments:
That's great. Can't wait for the 100th.
Thank you. Me either. ;)
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