Celia I enjoyed The Uninvited Guest! I made a few suggestions. Jill
jill stockinger
Celia-VERY ENJOYABLE!! GOOD LUCK! Jill!
THE UNINVITED GUEST (Great title!) by Celia McCauley
It has been unusually cold. (don’t need time frame!) The frost on the rooftop of my neighbor’s house attests to it. When I open the blinds of my patio doors, there he is. I bend over to have a better look at this colorful creature. He has been determined to make his presence known by meowing so loudly, he could be heard from behind the glass doors. He was standing on his two back paws, (comma) as if trying to push the door open to come in from the cold.
“Who are you and to whom do you belong?” I asked him. There was no answer, (comma) only his continuous imploring meowing. The growling and loud barks of my little dog Chica, now next to me, told me in no uncertain terms, “Don’t open the door. He is an unwelcome stranger.”
I picked up my little pet and placed her on the couch. I offered a few soothing words of comfort. “He is not a threat, don’t worry, you will be all right, (comma)” I said, (comma) while not losing sight of the visitor. (suggest instead)
The house was quiet. (period) Ben was still sleeping and I was afraid the barking would disturb his much-needed rest. I could not help myself; I gave my dog her food and decided it would not be fair to let my “uninvited guest” suffer from cold and starvation. I opened the refrigerator, (comma) searching for something suitable to feed him, but what could I offer? There were some leftover (one word) noodles from last night’s dinner; (semicolon) I came up with an idea.
I’ll mix a few noodles with Chica’s dog food and see if he'll eat that.
I opened the door and stepped outside. He rubbed himself against my legs while continuing the meowing. Was there a difference in the tone? Was there a grateful cadence to the sound? The fact was that he ate the full bowl with such gusto, it made me feel good.
Pleased with myself for doing such a good deed, I resumed my day’s routine as planned. The cat had made himself comfortable by jumping onto the cushion of one of the patio chairs. It appeared that it felt great to the cat, now he had a full belly. After all, a covered patio, a warm cushion and a homemade (one word) breakfast. Who could resist?
I was recounting the event to my sister, via a long distance telephone call, and she asked me to describe the cat.
“He is full grown, black, white and orange, (comma)” I said to her.
“”He” is a “She,” my very wise sister said, leaving no room for doubt. “Males have no more than two colors and you (delete: have) mentioned three.”
I had to admire her 90-year-old wisdom. I was convinced, even if the diagnosis was made all the way from Spain.
After a couple of days with the same routine, I began to suspect “She” felt at home and was not going anywhere. My dog was not happy, and the daily visits from my little bluebirds were now scarce. My daughter tried to help me resolve this new dilemma by putting a notice in the local paper and a picture of “She” asking if anyone knew about her. I had only one answer: “Does she have a chip? You could take her to an animal shelter.”
Well, I am not willing to pick her up and the animal shelter has been overwhelmed with pets. Let’s hope the good weather will come soon, and she will find other accommodations.
It has been a couple of weeks now and we have established a pattern. I’ll feed her some cat food (a good soul gave me a few cans) mixed with dog food, and then, “She” roams around the patio and leaves in the afternoon, returning in the evening to her now own chair-bed. I consider myself a “tough person” because I had not let her into the house and I only fed her once a day. However, I admit I pet her (since you continue to do so) occasionally, and in return for my affection, I found a dead rat not far from “She”s dwellings. Most likely a gift to us, to express her gratitude by demonstrating she is to be the defender of the property. Ugh!
In the meantime, our little Chica has refused to go outside unless she leaves by the front door. I have assured her she is still The Queen and should have no fear of being replaced. I don’t think she feels reassured. Chica follows me everywhere, and lately, she jumps on my lap at the end of the day, when I sit in my recliner ready to watch a TV show or read (delete: a couple more chapters from) my book.
As for me, I now have one more reason to wish for warm and sunny weather. I hope “She” will return to her own home or find a different one. I confess I also (delete: feel) have conflicting emotions; after all, the fact is I am the adoptee in this drama.
I hope that, sooner or later, there will be a resolution to this new situation. Maybe the good weather will cause her to leave. Maybe she will find a better home. Or perhaps, the well-known wandering cat’s nature will “sprang” with the Spring, and she will decide to go visiting elsewhere.
(maybe?) Jill!