Day 162: Toronto Cat Rescue Bowl-a-thon

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 162: Toronto Cat Rescue Bowl-a-thon

It’s that time of the year again. The Toronto Cat Rescue (TCR) is hosting their annual Bowl-a-thon to raise funds for the cats and kittens of Toronto.

Since Dieter and I love both cats and bowling, we registered for this event and are active fundraisers.

The first year we took part, our group was very small, and the organization barely raised $6,000. Last year, the group counted over 200 people and we raised over $40,000.

How does the Toronto Cat Rescue? It’s not a cat shelter in the traditional sense of the word. Cats are not housed in cages, but rather with foster families, their picture is taken and displayed on the TCR website, after which the cats are up for adoption.

The organization needs money though. Before each cat or kittens goes to their new home, they are spayed/neutered. If a cat or kitten is sick, it’s taken to a veterinarian.

If you can spare a few dollars, I would kindly ask you to make a donation. This can be done in three ways:

Canada Helps:

https://www.canadahelps.org/en/charities/toronto-cat-rescue/p2p/bowlathon2019/team/paws-claws/captain/conny-manero/

My PayPal account:

conny.manreo@gmail.com

or via a bank transfer.

A donation of $20 or more will get you a tax receipt.

The cats and kittens of Toronto are counting on you and thank you in advance.

Day 161: Why, oh why couldn’t I have gone for a white one?

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 161: Why, oh why couldn’t I have gone for a white one?

By now you are well acquainted with Greyson, a kitten we adopted from a foster mother from the Toronto Cat Rescue. As soon as I saw his picture, I knew I wanted this kitten and a few weeks later (he was too young to adopt at the time) he was mine.

Plenty of people don’t like black cats, they think that black cat brings bad luck. Oh well, they do say that an idiot is born every minute, so we have to forgive their ignorance and stupidity. Me, I love black cats, but then … I love all cats.

Today, some seven months later, the tiny kitten has grown into a medium-sized cat. The other cats are much bigger than him, but maybe he’s not done growing yet. 

We love Greyson dearly, but yesterday I was far from impressed with him. Let me put you in the picture …

Last night, around 1:00 a.m. I was ready to go to bed and before turning the lights out I did what I do every night … I check if all the cats are okay.

Charlotte was sleeping on top of the wall unit. 

Holly was snoring in the loveseat. 

Halley was at my feet, eager to join me in bed. 

And Greyson … where was Greyson?

I looked around the lounge, checked the chairs in the dining room, and inspected the kitchen ... Greyson wasn’t there. Next, I checked my bedroom, the bathroom, and the laundry cabinet … nothing. The only place left was Dieter’s bedroom.

Since Dieter was in bed already, his room was shrouded in darkness and finding Greyson there would be next to impossible. So I stepped into Dieter’s room and in hushed tones called “Greyson! Greyson, are you here?” No response of course and he didn’t make an appearance either.

So I went back to the lounge to have another look. I looked under the coffee table, behind the chairs, checked the dining room chairs again, checked the windowsill behind the curtain, and looked in the kitchen, bathroom and laundry room again. When I went to my bedroom I checked under the bed, behind the cabinets … nothing.

I was slowly but surely beginning to lose it and when I returned to the living room I hissed “Greyson, where the hell are you? Show yourself!”

The only place left was Dieter’s bedroom, but I couldn’t exactly go in there and switch the light on. So I stumbled around in the dark, checking the bed if I could feel his soft fur and in the process stubbed my toe against the bed. Lord above, have you ever hurt yourself without being allowed to scream or swear?

I stood there in near silence, groaning with pain, my foot in my hand, doing a close imitation of an Irish jig. 

By the time I returned to the living room I was royally ticked off and thought … Why, oh why couldn’t I have gone for a white kitten?!

The only thing left to do was grab my cellphone, switch on the build in torch and shine it under Dieter’s bed, that was the only place I hadn’t looked. But where was my cellphone? Now had to go look for that. I checked the coffee table, the dining room table, looked under books and other stuff … my phone was AWOL too.

And then suddenly I felt familiar soft fur brushing up against my leg … Greyson. “And where did you come from?” I asked him. “I looked for you everywhere!” He didn’t answer, of course, if he had I would probably have keeled over. Instead, he sat there staring at me with his big amber eyes looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

So in the event that you’re planning on adopting a black kitten/cat, for the sake of your nerves and your toes … get the cat a fluorescent neckband or better yet, a bell.

If you like my stories, you might like my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 160: Halley … Hollywood Material

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 160: Halley … Hollywood Material

The other day I mentioned that I suspected that Greyson was part cat, part squirrel. Now he’s not the only one could have mixed parents.

http://connymanero.weebly.com/blog/day-158-greysons-accident

Take Halley for instance … she could be related to polar bears because that cat loves anything cold. First thing in the morning she wants to go out on the balcony. If I think it’s too cold and refuse to open the door, she looks at me with pleading eyes and emits a meow that would melt a stone heart. If that doesn’t work, she throws a tantrum and scratches the door with all her might. Eventually, I can’t take her scratching anymore and give in.

During the day, she ignores warm cushy places and rather sleeps in the tub or the sink where it’s cool. And give her half a chance and she jumps in the fridge.

Halley is a bit of a diva though. While she was a kitten she was sweet and calm, but lately, she’s developed a personality that demands attention.

People often wonder what cats do while they’re away from home. I know what Halley does … she watched TV, more specifically old black and white movies. In case you have any doubt, l found her in the sink today and she struck one pose after another.

Can you imagine Halley at the Oscars? And the winner is...

She is, by all means, a bossy cat though. While she plays with Greyson, a nine months old kitten, she often chases after Charlotte and Holly, aged 15 years and 5 years respectively. Neither of them likes that. Then just when I think they are sworn enemies, I find them curled up together in the airing cupboard.

Halley’s true friend though is Dieter. Where he goes, she goes. It starts in the morning when he takes his shower, she goes with him in the bathroom and sits on the toilet waiting for him to finish. I haven't actually seen that, but that's what he tells me.

When he comes home she sits by the door to greet him and from there on they're like two peas in a pot. If he goes to the bathroom, no matter where Halley is, she comes charging through the room in a manner of … WAIT FOR ME! GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!

On the rare occasion that she doesn’t see him go to the bathroom, all he has to do is call “Halley, are you coming?” and she comes flying from wherever she’s been.

Halley is a wonderful cat, but then judging by her expression as a kitten, we could have expected that she was going to be a handful.

Do you like the stories?

You might like my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 159: I’ve been called a liar and a cheat

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompt

Day 159: I’ve Been Called a Liar and a Cheat

As a freelance writer, I always keep an eye open for new opportunities. When I noticed a group on Facebook called ‘Content Writers’ I thought it might be a good idea to join, thinking that there might be writing jobs. I applied and got accepted.

It didn’t take long for the Jax V.M., the moderator, to post the message “just wait ,but can you do me a favor ? Please provide your real picture on your profile ,thanks.” 

So far, my profile picture was that of a cat. Sometimes it was Charlotte, sometimes Holly, Halley or Greyson. I changed it regularly. 

Jax responded with “you can't get job here if you do that, no one believes in you ,ok,please be responsible if you want to do this kind of work.

Okay, I could understand that, sort of. Personally, I don’t see what a picture has to do with someone’s writing abilities. A picture will reveal if someone is female or male, old or young, beautiful or ordinary, etc. But is any of that important? As a client, I would prefer to see a writing sample rather than someone’s face.

Judging by Jax’s writing, I didn’t have much confidence in her. She didn’t capitalize her sentences. She left a space between the last letter of a word and a comma. She didn’t leave a space between the comma and the first word of a new sentence. And she stated ‘you can't get job here if you do that’ instead of ‘You can’t get a job here if you do that’. 

This was not the work of an accomplished writer.

Anyhow, I complied and posted a picture of myself, this picture. 

Jax responded with “ i am asking a real picture of you right?” 

I didn’t see what the problem was, this was a real picture of me. She replied by posting this picture, taken from Wordpress and said “Ok if you say so that is not copyright”

I responded with “Not sure what you mean by that Jax. Are you saying that I took someone else's photo?" To which the reply was “ it isn't necessary but i do have an instinct ,anyways leave it”

This irked me. This person thought that I had stolen someone else’s photo and pretended this was me! Where did she get off calling me a liar and a cheat? Not in so many words, but that was the gist of it. When I tried once more to assure her that this was indeed me, she responded with “ok if you say so,goodluck” To me, ‘ok if you say so’ is as good as ‘I don’t believe a word of it’.

So looked at Jax’s Facebook profile and … I found a picture of a young girl, little more than a child really. I’m not good at guessing ages, but she looked about 15 – 17. That’s who I was dealing with! A kid! No wonder she acted so immature.

The other members didn’t seem very credible either. One claimed to have studied at Oxford but her writing let me doubt that.

She wrote:

My name is xxx am a content writer with over 5years of experience do check out my gigs

Contact me asap let get it started

Am here let deal

I don’t know at which Oxford this girl studied, but judging by her command of the English language it wasn’t the one in England.

Other writers’ spelling was even worse. They applied to jobs with “R U looking for a writer?” Now, this really rubs me up the wrong way. It’s bad enough that regular people write in abbreviations, but so-called professional writers should know better.

Either way, I decided that this wasn’t the site for and left.

If you like my blog, sample one of my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

It is generally accepted that the parents of a kitten are a male and female cat. Yet in Greyson’s case, I have serious doubts. Judging by his look and behavior, I’ve come to think that his father might be a squirrel.

Not only does Greyson have the coloring of a black squirrel, but he has a really big bushy tail, and he acts like a squirrel. He runs like one, he jumps on walls and door frames, and hides things. Now wouldn’t you say those are all the characteristics of a squirrel?

In addition, Greyson is a rather naughty kitten. This morning he pulled a stunt that we won’t forget in a hurry.

For the longest time, we had dark colored carpets. They were either red with flowers or dark green with flowers or something similar. Nothing ever happened to those carpets, no spills of any kind. Now that we have a new cream-colored lounge suite, I wanted a cream colored carpet under the coffee table and would you believe it … the carpet is not even a week old and … you guessed it, something happened.

I recently changed the coffee table decoration from a silk flower arrangement to a Val St. Lambert crystal tray. I inherited this tray from my folks, but for the longest time didn’t dare to put the tray on the table. It’s an expensive piece and should it break … well, anyone who knows crystal knows that crystal doesn’t just break, it shatters in a million pieces.

With the arrival of the new lounge and carpet though, the orange flowers clashed with the pink flowers in the carpet, and so I brought out the crystal tray, washed it and placed it on the coffee table. Charlotte, Holly, and Halley ignored the tray, but Greyson was fascinated by it. Every chance he got he jumped on the table, walked up to the tray and stared at his reflection.

And so it happened. This morning he was once again admiring himself in the tray, for some reason got spooked, one of his claws got stuck in the lace runner under the tray, and the next moment a coffee cup that was standing on the table now lay on the beige carpet … leaving a big coffee stain.

Fortunately, I’ve read enough about stain removal that I knew what to do. I blotted up the coffee and followed up with soda water. From what I can see most of the stain is gone. Someone suggested hairspray or peroxide to remove any last traces of the stain, but I have neither hairspray nor peroxide. But thank you Vicat F. and Bunny A.

As for Greyson … he knew he’d done something wrong and fled to my bedroom. It took hours before he ventured back into the living room and was rather careful about it. Not that he had anything to worry about, it was, after all, an accident and he was quickly forgiven.

Do you like the stories? 

Maybe you will like one of my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 157: Halley and Greyson

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Ideas

Day 157: Halley and Greyson

Does anyone remember the two little kittens we adopted from the Toronto Cat Rescue last year? 

Well, they are not so little anymore and let me assure you, they are packets of trouble.

It starts in the morning. Halley jumps on Dieter’s bed and wakes him up by ever so gently touching his nose. When he shows no intention of getting up, she touches his nose and cheek again and again. When her gentle approach has no results, she resorts to plan B. She jumps off the bed and goes and scratches a cardboard box, something that sounds like pounding a drum. In the event that that doesn’t have the desired result she pulls out all the stops and slams the door. How does she do this ... she stands on her hind legs behind the door and pushes with her front paws.

Meanwhile, Greyson takes it upon himself to wake me up. He does this by trampling all over me, followed by licking my ear. He doesn’t just lick though, he sticks his ice-cold nose in my ear and goes krrrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. You try staying asleep with a helicopter next to your head.

Once we’re up, showered and the cats are fed, Halley and Greyson take up their position by the balcony door ... they want out for a breath of fresh air. If it’s too cold they get a clear and decisive ‘No, it’s too cold’, which brings about a series of complaints... pitiful meows that translate to ... ‘Pleeeeease.’ They could melt a stone heart with their cute pleading faces and voices.

If it’s not too cold I open the door and they just about clamber over each other to get out. Halley loves catches snowflakes, while Greyson adores rolling around in the snow. When they’ve had enough they come inside because now it’s time for breakfast.

But then the trouble starts, they want to go outside again, and again, and again. In summer this is no problem as the balcony door remains open, but now, in winter, it’s a nuisance. Every time they want to go out I have to put up with their crying, or get up and give in. Then, of course, minutes later, I have to get up again to let them in. These cats need a bloody doorman!

When they had their fill of fresh air, they will either come inside, or I have to call them in. Halley is usually quite willing, but more of than not, Greyson's attitude is ... kiss my furry butt. 

When they are inside it's time for the daily race. Greyson will bite Halley’s behind or slap his head which results in Halley going in hot pursuit of the biter. She will chase Greyson from the living room to my bedroom, after which the two of them will come storming back, make a sharp right back into the living room, a left into the dining room, straight through the kitchen, another left into the living room and all the way back to the bedroom. Then for some reason, when they come racing back, Halley is no longer chasing Greyson, but Greyson is chasing Halley.

If you’re imagining this race, don’t think that the chase goes flawless. For Halley it usually does, but Greyson has an accident or two along the way. He’s got lots of fur around the cushions of his feet, causing him not to have as much traction as he would like. As a result, he often loses his footing while taking corners, or he can’t break fast enough and slams into something. Does that teach him a lesson? Neih, he gives himself a shake and goes right back to what he was doing.

When the two of them are tired, it’s time for a nap. A nap that usually lasts from 12:00 until 5:00. 

When they wake up, it’s playtime again. Poor Halley doesn’t get a chance to play with anything though. If she plays with a ball, Greyson takes it away from her, if she’s having fun with a spring, Greyson will steal it and hide it. If I give them each a spring, Greyson will go and run with his spring to my bedroom, come back, steal Halley’s spring and make another trip to the bedroom. Halley doesn’t seem to mind though, she loves her little ‘brother’ and indulges him.

But speaking of springs ... since these colorful toys are a clear favorite of Halley and Greyson we stocked up on them. All in all we they must have had 25 springs yet suddenly we couldn’t find any of them. So, we went looking. We found 17 under the sofa and 8 under the fridge. And it’s the same with other toys: balls, birds, mice ... they will be here one day and gone the next.

And so it gets evening, they get their supper and after a quick wash, Halley and Greyson (along with Holly and Charlotte) retire for the night. By the time I want to go to sleep, I have a problem ... my bed is occupied by two or three cats. Holly always stays with me in the living room, but Charlotte, Halley, and Greyson make themselves comfortable on the duvet or even my pillow.

So I squeeze into bed as best as I can. Will they move? ... forget it, they were there first and if I want a space I have to be content with what’s available. Then again, snuggling up against a cat has its benefits ... it’s nice and warm.

The next morning it all starts again.