I will admit it, I took a week away from any serious writing. I dabbled, I mowed the lawn, and I mourned my sweet Tristan. And because I live on a farm, well, cats happen. Where one adorable lap-cat left me mourning, two fuzzy and precocious kittens have helped make it better.
No, they don’t have names – not yet, at least. This pretty little grey thing is the boy. He started it all by laying in the barn being adorable. My husband, the cat man, couldn’t help himself. He had to love on the little guy, and shockingly enough, the kitten didn’t mind at all. He loved it and wanted to be picked up.
Then he got sick. Nothing bad, just not feeling perfect. Inside he came (which means he’ll never leave). Well, the little guy demanded to sit in my lap, fell asleep on my shoulder while I typed, and went from being the side effect of cat drop-offs to being a pet.
Then there’s his sister. She’s probably not related, in all honesty, since we had a few pregnant cats decide that our never-ending food bowl makes this a perfect home. Where the little boy is sweet, this one is fearless and funny. Oh, she also loves people, but she loves chasing us and attacking my dogs. Yes, big dogs. She will puff up and bounce sideways at them, then is so proud of herself when the guys lay down on her level and let her bat at their faces. She got to come inside because the little boy was scared and lonely (and my adult cats wanted NOTHING to do with him). It seemed like a good idea at the time, but let’s be honest here. The chances of her ever being just a barn cat again? Slim to none, and I’m leaning toward the none side of that.
And for those of you wondering about the other cats? We’re trying our best to slowly but surely take them all in to be spayed. Not so easy when strays show up constantly, but we are trying. Now, if I could just get new ones to stop arriving, like the new male that’s causing fights all night long… yeah, that would be great.
I know, we could stop putting food out, but I’d rather be that sucker than pretend like they don’t exist. And once they’ve succumbed to my husband’s loving ways, they’re easier to find homes for. Hey, everyone needs a hobby.
But, the two kittens have made me feel like writing again, and it hurts just a bit less to write Tristan constantly. I now have the ending of When We Were Crowned all mapped out, and it shouldn’t be that much longer to get it on paper.
Alpha reads have made a few minor corrections, but this book has been dubbed to be “on track” for what I wanted. Hopefully, y’all will love the story, and I’m kinda excited to end this curse. I mean… there’s nothing wrong with having all my pets in bubble wrap… right?