Today I'm celebrating post number 850 at the Corner.
Sharing positivity positively fills me with joy
so I'm looking forward to 850 more.
I'm also entering the third-annual holiday writing contest over at Susanna Hill's blog. From her post, here's our challenge:
The Contest: Write a children's story about a Holiday Mishap, mix-up, miscommunication, mistake, or potential disaster (a la Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer :)). Your story may be poetry or prose, silly or serious or sweet, religious or not, based on Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or whatever you celebrate, but is not to exceed 350 words not counting the title (aren't I being generous?! :) It can be as short as you like, but no more than 350!) Did the dog knock over the Christmas Tree? Did little Johnny's costume get grape juice all over it moments before the holiday pageant? Did the menorah go missing? Did travel arrangements get snarled or miscommunicated? Did Santa's sleigh have to make an emergency landing? The field is wide open! Have fun!
And now, without further ado, my entry.
The
Caturday Before Christmas by Barbara Gruener
‘Twas
The Caturday before Christmas, I
remember it well.
Why
we’d gotten that cat I
still really can't tell.
The
hubs? He didn’t want it. My
son wasn’t sure.
But
she needed a home so
I'd said yes to her.
We
went right off to PetSmart to
buy her some things.
We
got her a litter box and
some play toys with rings.
A
scratch post with feathers, and
a blanket so soft.
We
fixed her a bed on
a top bunk bed loft.
We
waited and waited for
her to finally arrive.
And
she strutted right in with a twinkle in her eye.
She
went straight to the tree, it
was the first thing she saw.
She
took refuge beneath it while
we watched her in awe.
As
she batted those branches, they
swayed to and fro.
Then
she darted around it like
a train on the go.
In
a flash she ascended, headed
straight to the top.
We
weren't sure she'd make it but
claws wouldn’t let her drop.
And
before we could stop her, she
was the angel on high.
She
mewed loudly to tell us that
Christmas is nigh.
And
then in a dash that
tree started to fall.
We
watched, but just couldn’t do
anything at all.
The
bulbs crashed, then shattered as
ornament shards flew.
The
lights were a blinkin’ - but just what could we do?
That crazed cat caused chaos in
her thirty minutes here.
Our catastrophe tree wouldn’t
bring us much cheer.
We had wanted to help out that little rescue cat.
So
we'd just have to train her and
forgive her all of that.
When
she came out from under all that broken tree stuff,
we
realized she’s really a cute, playful fluff.
Her
name? Well, it’s Mekah; it
means Twinkle in Latin.
She
has green eyes that sparkle and
black fur sleek like satin.
This cat tale we'll forever remember all right.
LOL! Well, any cat owner will attest that this is certainly one of the perils of having a kitty. But they sure do make memories! ;)
ReplyDelete:D
ReplyDeleteBarbara,
ReplyDeleteThought of you and this video after reading you post. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jm3dm5J5r0A
I have a cat, so I completely understand! Cute story! Good luck! :)
ReplyDeleteHi Barbara,
ReplyDeleteA beautiful story you told
Of Mekah your cat.
Your rhymes made me smile
And I'll grin for a long while. :-)
Mekah seems to have found a home after all!
ReplyDeleteI loved your poem/story. Well written, well thought of, and well done! Good luck in the contest. I hope you win!
ReplyDeleteNajda
Wonderful, Barbara! Cats can certainly be full of mischief :) I can just picture Mekah (perfect name for a Christmas cat!) as the angel on the tree... before it came crashing down! :) Thanks so much for such an entertaining story, and I'm glad you rescued Mekah! :)
ReplyDeleteI can just see this whole thing! We had a cat that liked to swat ornaments but he never did climb the tree so our Catastrophes weren't too bad. Cute story!
ReplyDeleteNot being a cat person I still enjoyed the Cat astrophe of the story. well done
ReplyDeletehahaha! I can see it all! Great job Ms Gruener!! That Mekah is going to brighten your days and nights for sure.
ReplyDelete