tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109870702349871032024-03-12T22:03:44.667-05:00The Feral MuseKim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-68006239054453534732021-09-17T10:14:00.001-05:002021-09-17T10:14:12.926-05:00<p> Crazy World</p><p><br /></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #0084ff; color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">wisdom will be forgotton and glitter gowns new lyrics</span> <span style="background-color: #e4e6eb; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #0084ff; color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">worn by hypocrites in white and red - the blue bleeds off the sidewalks</span></div>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-85945490486378246212020-02-09T11:40:00.002-06:002020-02-09T11:40:48.626-06:00For My Sunny<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AZJFtuWTS-NVbComegB58uoaOribUmZJuaDBeDzziMxN-kcAJ6qUznp2kleBHs2xlJ3aWSVNRvySkzrufJ6tglxfXsoFc8gv456e02k5pGbifEfUiXtbJ3mlRELK6fpIwqiDsHCF_qc/s1600/Sunnylookingoverporch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="562" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AZJFtuWTS-NVbComegB58uoaOribUmZJuaDBeDzziMxN-kcAJ6qUznp2kleBHs2xlJ3aWSVNRvySkzrufJ6tglxfXsoFc8gv456e02k5pGbifEfUiXtbJ3mlRELK6fpIwqiDsHCF_qc/s320/Sunnylookingoverporch.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Crazy cat whirls from wall to wall,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">leaps over tables; whisks down the hall.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Flies up the staircase, finds ribbons and bows,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">springs down to teak cabinets, flips cereal bowls.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Crazy cat gleefully chases the ghosts,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">of fresh brewed coffee and cinnamon toast.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Reaching the top, he gracefully glides,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">onto the fridge, where he sits and sighs.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Crazy cat slows and trots ‘cross the floor</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">carefully entering my bedroom door.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Drapes his years over my knees,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Dancing in dreams, he smiles as he sleeps …</span></div>
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Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-41770657032071099882018-12-24T09:53:00.006-06:002021-09-17T10:15:49.322-05:00Night Wandering<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 6px;">___________________________________________</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 6px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Whispering wishes to wisk away<br />all the earthly woes today<br />Gossamer drapes and pinwheel charms<br />Welcome you into my arms...</div>
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Walk in night, above the grass<br />feral cats release the past<br />No one cares what age you are<br />when your home is in the stars...</div>
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Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-68990426520819947182018-11-11T10:46:00.000-06:002018-11-11T10:46:42.474-06:00Three Trees<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I saw three trees<br />barks black, one white, one brown<br />leaves all entwined<br />roots joined to face the storm</div>
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I watched them through seasons<br />They never wavered once<br />Together they were strong<br />against the wind, the rain, the snow</div>
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They slept through the winter<br />bows swaying in the cold<br />still holding one another<br />While the season carried on</div>
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Spring found them budding<br />leaves still entwined<br />together roots all bound<br />three as one - the trees remain</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">@KY Cady 2018</span></div>
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Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-28803688949194150192018-10-02T15:32:00.000-05:002018-10-02T15:32:03.554-05:00Debbie<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The other day I saw an older tiny lady looking for change in her purse for some chips - she was the lady who stands on the corner with the paper people sell for donations. I told her I could pay for her chips. She said thank you - and when i was leaving the gas station, she asked for a ride. She is tiny, about late 60s. There are assaults and robberies on the corner and i said yes. Her apartment complex is across the way from mine. She told me her name was Debbie and she had a cigarette behind her ear. Probably bummed one. This tiny lady made me feel positive and safe as we talked in the car - she is one of the strongest women i know. She starts on the corner at 6:30 AM and stays all day. She has an apartment. She's alone. And she's amazing. I could feel such strength from her..... thank you Debbie. </span><span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="heart emoticon"><img alt="" class="img" height="16" role="presentation" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/ff3/1.5/16/2764.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /></span>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-60263543546984652622018-10-02T15:28:00.000-05:002018-10-02T15:37:53.437-05:00CAT IN THE HOOD - Chiquita's Story<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVJKGvTYMfust6eyrF3jooDAJFKCSXd2bGqB-Yq-5u1uWyMoTmTMIQp1fPiAVyS6q6Z4i_GAAyNZEkd23xYSQHwRiE0cSjWiDHYvZ9phLt3aLCRvMc8YTEUCtkAXz4PlxlotlpWBq28s/s1600/blackmunchkinP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="989" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVJKGvTYMfust6eyrF3jooDAJFKCSXd2bGqB-Yq-5u1uWyMoTmTMIQp1fPiAVyS6q6Z4i_GAAyNZEkd23xYSQHwRiE0cSjWiDHYvZ9phLt3aLCRvMc8YTEUCtkAXz4PlxlotlpWBq28s/s320/blackmunchkinP.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"I am telling my tale from my hiding bush
in this third world America. Nothing surprises me anymore. I'm a totally
self-contained kitty - with the help of a human who seems to care - sending
food my way and water. I won't let go of my instincts though - bugs have always
been delicious and I'm not about to give them up! My name is Chiquita. I have
survived being trapped and my sex taken from me - but, in the long run - it's
ok - I don't have to worry about being chased by these big old toms and
attacked. I don't want to go through what my mom did. She did her very best. Me
and my brother left - she didn't make it. We did - I am a survivor - I'm a cat
in the hood." </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">“You need to know first about me. I love my
freedom – that’s number one. I’m two years old and according to statistics I
won’t live much past five unless my human keeps caring for me – then I may be
able to have a full life. But it’s not easy dodging those souped-up motorcycles
that split my eardrums and cars that sound like bombs are driving them from
across the street! Why do humans so love noise? Don’t they understand how much
more they could learn and thrive if they simply would listen to what’s around
them?” ... to be continued....</span></div>
<br />Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-802941960599916612018-08-14T10:45:00.001-05:002018-08-16T13:58:00.174-05:00Firefighter<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">What is a firefighter?</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A man, a woman,</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A son, a mother,</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A neighbor,</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A prisoner,</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">A friend,</span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">A hero....</span></span></h4>
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- kycady</div>
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Photo from the LATIMES.com</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ZXA7YHK5CwJzh6J6zA3EDCUjgqw4kD2cAjsXWngBEC4LlGXt6nck755Y9Flg8dhtbn8gza49bMIAcp86W-cDHEVN1f-yvFv-VH3JHfol0wscJVMrRfz_0g2ErLL2Ub9pTb1HY9TAV_0/s1600/FIrefighters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="1400" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ZXA7YHK5CwJzh6J6zA3EDCUjgqw4kD2cAjsXWngBEC4LlGXt6nck755Y9Flg8dhtbn8gza49bMIAcp86W-cDHEVN1f-yvFv-VH3JHfol0wscJVMrRfz_0g2ErLL2Ub9pTb1HY9TAV_0/s640/FIrefighters.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-13472200256913482332018-06-26T19:13:00.001-05:002018-06-26T19:13:13.323-05:00Watership Down<h3 style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Madness prevails<br />but midnight stars still shine<br />I only get out just so often<br /><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">these days to look at them</span>It all seems so normal<br />but I feel my skin crawl<br />like Fiver who understood<br />the danger<br />The changes happen behind<br />closed doors....<br />This is how a war,<br />a revolution,<br />a coup<br />begins...<br />You are not crazy,<br />you are right...</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></h3>
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- kycady</div>
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Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-47976704056565639322018-06-26T19:08:00.001-05:002018-06-26T19:08:38.581-05:00Burning Man<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Burning <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by KY Cady</div>
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I knew he was sick the minute I saw him.</div>
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His once handsome face bloated and oval,</div>
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screaming warnings of cortisol gone awry.</div>
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His stomach not a 'good ole' boy' beer belly, </div>
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instead double its size on a slender body, </div>
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blood clots writhing inside with indiscriminant glee.</div>
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I said something.</div>
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His sister waved her hands and exclaimed,</div>
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"No! His blood pressure is just fine."</div>
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That evening we went to the steakhouse where he </div>
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downed Martini's as if drinking the blood of Christ.</div>
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His eyes burned with a fire that scorched me. </div>
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He spoke rapidly; and cried about Jack.</div>
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Jack, the little feral he nursed with more care and love</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>than Tim had ever betrayed
before. </div>
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One night he knew, he told me, he knew.</div>
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Jack was begging him to let go.</div>
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He did and downed a bottle of Scotch</div>
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when he came back from the vets.</div>
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I woke up that March suddenly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Tim was dying.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Although we hadn't talked for months,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I called his number, frantic, whispering hotly in the phone,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
"You're sick, Tim, very, very sick ... please see someone".</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That was the day of his first stroke.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The second finished him off two months later.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Burning Man - he never got to the festival.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He'd once joyfully spoke about going,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
with laughter punctuating that indelible</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Southern drawl, deep and whiskey-tinged.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Burning man - he went May 15, 2010 -</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
the fire consuming him whole.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nothing less would do…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt;">2013@Kim Cady<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-25157690229592406242018-05-07T10:54:00.003-05:002018-05-07T10:58:47.961-05:00First Impressions of a Kitten<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I walk down the street<br />
and enjoy that little sparrow<br />
who flew away in front of me...<br />
It's really too noisy though<br />
and wish I knew where my mama was...<br />
I may be on my own now<br />
it won't be easy....<br />
but it sure looks easier than what I see around me<br />
I feel these creatures<br />
angry, impatient, unaware of their surroundings.<br />
They yell and rarely seem happy,<br />
looking down into a small black pool<br />
they hold in their hand...<br />
they get in these huge ugly things<br />
I run away from.<br />
They disappear and I'm glad..<br />
finally it's really quiet and dark...<br />
Nights are so much better...<br />
I found my sister - and she helped me back<br />
to our nest - Mama was there<br />
I ate and slept ... and hoped I'd never have to<br />
leave her and see what I saw today again....</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-top: 6px;">
kycady </div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-41988862168837930522015-10-01T16:25:00.000-05:002017-07-10T10:36:04.739-05:00'The Abbottsford Cats - The Sphere of Remel' Available in B&W or Color!<span style="color: #b45f06;">'<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Abbottsford-Cats-Sphere-Remel/dp/1517587905/ref=dp_ob_title_bk" target="_blank">The Abbottsford Cats - The Sphere of Remel</a>'</span> is available in black & white or color at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Abbottsford-Cats-Sphere-Remel/dp/1517587905/ref=dp_ob_title_bk" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. Finally! I am now working on final volume - 'Shandor & the Bellwether Trail'. Should be out by the end of this year<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">JClick on the title of this post & it will take you to purchase page for 'The Sphere of Remel'.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_F17pSl8g7H5C5wEyV450HYUWn_jL4Ue8Ccw59GNa5cUNtVNqm7iB1u3n-8l9kcs0wpHe8UP9kDuJa27u30CfYikTYY9yaCkkd7YvseZvzBEkDLF79lKWEWEiEx4LhIpM1QsE0dxoU_s/s640/tac1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Abbottsford Cats - The Clowder</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-20327177337883730212015-06-08T11:03:00.001-05:002015-09-17T13:11:08.517-05:00Angel Dust<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 15.4559993743896px;">He was a lean, small black cat walking alone in the projects.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I watched him as he'd dart from bush to bush, then suddenly stop for a moment.<br />
Then he saw me.<br />
At first he wasn't sure enough to come near my porch.<br />
I left a bowl out that evening. I knew he was walking through nuclear waste.<br />
It was seeping from the ground by the creek in Tonawanda in increments.<br />
Everyone knew it.<br />
No one would clean it up.<br />
Too dangerous.<br />
Safer to leave it to the gardens of those living in the townhouses;<br />
The old housing for the families of World War II factory workers.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
My black feral knew nothing of this; only that he found a friend.<br />
It was near Halloween, and he lived in a desperate area, flanking<br />
gangs, drugged out school kids, and a kill-shelter -<br />
not a good place for an unwanted young cat.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I'd watch for him and called him Angel Dust,<br />
after stories I heard of workers in the local chemical plants in the 1940s<br />
who had lived in the same projects I lived in now.<br />
The women would bring nuclear waste home with them unknowingly.<br />
Familes laughed as the women would spin and glow after dinner,<br />
dancing as if covered with angel dust.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I was living in a place where the landlord did crack in his garage;<br />
And screamed epitaphs at the neighbors and me.<br />
Dangerous times – I had to leave.<br />
I left Angel Dust under a bush with food and water.<br />
He didn't look well - I wasn't well myself.<br />
I was running again - with nothing but my car and animals.<br />
He wouldn't let me touch him.<br />
I let a feral friend know he was there and said goodbye.<br />
I still count the ferals I've left behind<br />
while trying to pick up the pieces of my broken life.<br />
Yet, when the sky is clear, I take the time to watch the stars dance<br />
like angel dust and hope he's well…</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.4559993743896px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
ky cady</div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-12451104902143684822014-11-16T22:21:00.007-06:002023-02-13T12:35:18.275-06:00The Exchange<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">He walked with a 9 mm drawn,</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">Toward the house of his perceived enemy...</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">an angry man with murder on his mind.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">I saw him and whispered in his ear...</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">What do you hold in your heart?</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">He ignored me</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">and kept walking...</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;"><br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I asked again,<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br />what do you hold in your heart?<br />He looked at me with a questioning gaze,<br />then turned away.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
I tapped his shoulder,<br />
and his shoulders sagged.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">He cried with tears in his eyes, "<span style="line-height: 15.456px;">I feel hatred and want revenge."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px;">He looked down and </span><span style="font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px;">had no more words.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I showed him my hands.<br />
"Take these and give me<br />
your hatred, your vengeance."<br />
<span style="font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px;">I can bear them, you cannot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px;">I see your soul; the light is dim.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
You must find your light by letting these things go,<br />
and I must find mine <span style="font-size: 14.4px; line-height: 15.456px;">by helping you -</span><br />
for you are my friend..</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">and I am yours.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Together can we end this cycle of madness.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">He turned to me and I took his gun... gently</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">We both breathed in the Spring like air</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">and watched as a crow flew by</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">Then walked back to his house....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">and sat on the steps in silence.....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;"><br /></div>
</div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-11193617118388465692014-11-01T18:25:00.002-05:002015-09-17T13:10:24.033-05:00Crossing My Path<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">She was back.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">The little black cat </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">that crossed my path last month.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">A small kitty, but in the same place.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">I think she's loosely 'owned'.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">But, I stopped this time </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">and she turned at my clucking </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">and sat down gently.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">The darkness was friendly,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">as I could see she was.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">A community cat.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">Next time I'll pass more slowly,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;">And hope she does too…</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302948px; line-height: 17.5636348724365px;"><br /></span>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-47016413090402697252014-09-28T14:34:00.002-05:002015-09-17T13:11:50.777-05:00The Monarch's Flight<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xGSqi14Kkcn8IlH0nb1ybfUVE2FjT8-t5neYaR4DRWvsSIIeswHGfU7PoCg_FWRZ1S7Gn-ROq58CsnFrfUSRuwTbD9Cs3yn5g7kfEDvLe8fm0mmj9Tl0dl2uZRKyMDGDy2rOU_FvW2I/s1600/monarchinflight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xGSqi14Kkcn8IlH0nb1ybfUVE2FjT8-t5neYaR4DRWvsSIIeswHGfU7PoCg_FWRZ1S7Gn-ROq58CsnFrfUSRuwTbD9Cs3yn5g7kfEDvLe8fm0mmj9Tl0dl2uZRKyMDGDy2rOU_FvW2I/s1600/monarchinflight.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">I</span> opened my wings to start my
journey;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
thousands of miles to fly home;</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I began in the North, feeding on a
friend's<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ripe, pink milkweed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He grew it just for me and my
kin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Strong and brave, I rose above
the garden;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Heading South for the ocean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My gossamer wings stretched out -
orange, black and gold;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shining in the sun as it warms my
perfect body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A gentle, southern breeze carried
me high;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
over the factories and homes
below.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt weary crossing the blue
mountains,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and stopped for energy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Food was sparse as I lit on dying
plants.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hungry, I continued over the pines<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
against a strong, western wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rain beat me down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hovered on a kind oak leaf
until the storm grew weak,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Again the sun warmed my body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, I couldn’t take flight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A wing was torn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I twirled downward as I fell in
flight;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
landing on a flat wooden branch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time passed, precious time until<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a large shadow blocked the sun from
my sight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am no coward, but, dared not
look at the final blow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, I was lifted, moving, but,
without my wings;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Without a pulse of my body!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The grass moved under me;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watched as dirt rushed beneath
my spent self.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The way is clear before me;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but, the clear, smooth wall does
not give way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lifted up, I am laid gently down
past the wall; my torn wing useless.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The shadow touches my broken body,
as I shudder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For frightful moments, I’m pinned
and with no way to escape.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miracle of miracles!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am freed and set on a ripe,
fragrant milkweed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I drink deep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once full, I try my wings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am able to soar with no delay!<o:p></o:p></div>
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The shadow serves those who fly wild, I do believe,<br />
It has made me whole again!<br />
I carry on - knowing I am cared for;<br />
as my journey continues . . ..</div>
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My journey is blessed . . .<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo from The Houston Museum of Natural History / PhotoArt by KY Cady</span></div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-5082354506401648642014-09-17T18:06:00.000-05:002018-05-07T10:57:48.359-05:00Jade - The Blind Cat of the Chases (from The Abbottsford Cats)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13EWvB5fhlHKN2Vj3fqZB9aP-EQXdbPaRC6GyrcjmTY4-cy65cjyWVbSDOIw8V3yYgOdEJqZGkIXvjJD_uVNLOXRtLxjZvSJiaGXvMIbB5tEjynt9-JhLvieeLUKXCywEEfF5V8G1wpA/s1600/blindkitty1a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13EWvB5fhlHKN2Vj3fqZB9aP-EQXdbPaRC6GyrcjmTY4-cy65cjyWVbSDOIw8V3yYgOdEJqZGkIXvjJD_uVNLOXRtLxjZvSJiaGXvMIbB5tEjynt9-JhLvieeLUKXCywEEfF5V8G1wpA/s1600/blindkitty1a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All was darkness when I felt my Mama’s rough tongue helping me into the world. She pushed me to her milk and I felt warm, delicious liquid in my tiny belly. My brother and two sisters scrambled for their portion as we lay protected in her embrace. I felt the energy flow as we ate and fell asleep to my Mama’s constant purr. It was like the sound of love to me. I never wanted to leave her side. Yet, she would move us in her great jaws, picking me up like a little sack. I never protested, because she always found a better place, where, as I grew I could play with the others but still hear her purr.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My brother was about my size and we tussled mightily as we grew. He would try to sneak up behind me, but, although I couldn’t see, I always heard the titter of his tiny paws rustling through the stones as he prepared to pounce.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Mama taught me everything. She told me I was different, but, although I was born blind, I would be stronger for it. She explained what shapes were by licking my head for a circle. She licked my tail to show me a straight line. She would drag me in her mouth to feel the rocks, grass and pavement (where I never was to go). When we lay in the heat, she explained how our beautiful star would warm our bodies during the day when we slept. It was almost as pleasurable to lay in the sun as it was in my Mama’s arms. Sometimes I wouldn’t stir until my brother would pounce on me and scold that it was dinnertime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Hunting was another thing entirely. I was a natural. Mama brought small insects and rodents already dead to us to sniff and play with. My sense of smell was quickly developing. I soon was able to figure out what she was bringing home when she was some distance away. My brother and sister would always ask, “What is it?” I was never wrong. I could hear her coming way before the others, too. When they would still be sleeping in the brush, I would hear her steadily trot through the grasses. I was always wide awake when she arrived.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One day she didn’t come back. I waited while the others slept. When they woke, we all sat and cried. It was deep in the night – cold and damp. No matter how we huddled together, we still shivered. I would jump at every sound, but, it was never her. Then we all heard it. Something or things were crashing through the bushes. There was a jumble of noise, like crows all cawing at once. Then the noise stopped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The next day, Mama was still gone. We all ventured out, trying to find her. Nothing close to her sweet smell came to us, but, a very tantalizing scent was right in our path. My brother and sisters ran to the food as fast as they could. I stood back and heard a clanging sound and their pitiful mews. They told me they were unable to get out of the cave they had ran into. They couldn’t get through the cold walls. They said there were openings, but, none were large enough. I cried with them and waited until I heard something rumbling through the bushes again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The high-pitched sounds returned, although they didn’t sound as dangerous. They were cooing and making mews like my brother and sisters. I didn’t make a move. I hid in the bushes as I heard my brothers and sisters leave with the sounds. I found myself totally alone. I was so afraid. In my darkness, I heard and could smell everything. I couldn’t sleep. My stomach was empty. I finally cried myself into a deep, fitful sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I woke, they were back! I was with my Mama and my brothers and sisters! The crashing noises where everywhere, but, Mama was calm. She let me know the ‘humans’ had taken her. The ‘humans’ were caring for her. She had a lot of experience with these creatures and, although, I didn’t understand, I was content - happy to be drinking my Mama’s warm milk again. She told me to listen carefully to the sounds they made. If I heard loud and angry sounds, I should hiss and spit. If they were cooing sounds, I could cautiously listen. But, I hissed and spat no matter what sounds they made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We were there for a long time it seemed; until one day my Mama was taken away. I looked for her all over the small area I was confined in. I knew my brother and sisters were doing better with the ‘humans’, but, I didn’t like them no matter how hard I tried. They didn’t smell or sound good to me. They didn’t seem to want to touch me, and made guttural sounds when they were near me. I would hiss and spit with all my might. They could never catch me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then the day came. I felt the warmth of the sun, and grass under my feet. I lifted my head as high as I could and took a deep, long draw of fresh air filled with scents of the woods. They were very close. I learned a lot during the time my Mama was caring for me with the humans. She told me stories of how to navigate in the woods if I ever found myself there again. Here was my chance. I ran so fast, I could barely feel the grass on my paws. I heard nothing following at first, and then, in the distance, a wail. They realized I was gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Nothing could stop me from looking for Mama. They were hunting through the brush, but, I had found a deep, empty rabbit burrow and heard their steps nearby. I hunkered down real low. Soon, they gave up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I never found my Mama. I looked for two seasons, through the cold season and the warm season. I learned all the pathways of the woods and bog I found myself in by smell and touch. Even when I was sleeping my senses were alert. It was during the second warm season when I found the Place of Bones. I heard small footsteps of a human. I reeled backward as the scent of a cat newly dead, entered my nostrils. The human was speaking low and sounded sad as I heard her move the earth. She said some words and then left. I went to the newly dug earth and smelt the cat’s body. It was an old cat, I could smell his age. It was a long time before I moved. I hadn’t been near a cat, alive or dead, for a very long time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />I made my burrow under a rock in that place, and listened as the human with the soft, calm voice would come every now and then. Sometimes she carried a cat and buried her. Others times she would bring lavender flowers and sage and lay it on the graves. I was never afraid of this human. One time, I followed her footsteps as she left. She lived in the wooden cave I had found months before. It was an easy run from the Place of Bones. Many trails led directly to and from both places. I learned every one of them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One day, after a time of hunger, I let my senses lapse. I was head-down, eating a mole I had just caught when I felt my body lifted and squeezed. The dogs that roamed the area were usually easy to outwit, but, here I was, in the jaws of one! I went limp for a moment and the dog relaxed. I twisted with all my might and grabbed his nose with both front claws. He yelped so loud I thought if there were dead dogs around, they would jump out of their graves. When he screamed, I wiggled free of his grip and ran zig zag across the bogs so fast he was still pawing at his bloodied nose before he knew I was gone!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With that event behind me, I took greater care than ever. I learned where the easiest trees to climb were situated. I practiced every which way until I knew the paths by touch. I was fast, lean, and my senses were at their best. I grew a reputation that I savored. I was Jade, the Blind Cat of the bog known as the Chases! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">'Jade' by KY Cady @2014 (from "The Abbottsford Cats - Shandor and the Bellwether Trail" (available 2019)</span></b></span></div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-89309884715570085942014-09-17T17:33:00.003-05:002015-05-03T11:11:48.351-05:00An Ordinary Man<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He was an ordinary man by most standards - not too young or old; not one to boast or one to hold back when affronted. He liked to go to the gym and enjoyed going out with his friends, just like anyone else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What set him apart was his love for the community cats. He watched them as the female ferals struggled each year with new litters. He saw them caring for their kits, and he watched them grow and scramble for safety and food, only to have more litters the next season. He wanted to help them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He set food out at at first. The cats and kittens were cautious, but, soon stood in the shadows until he came everyday and placed water and food below the tree in his yard. They trotted up eagerly for their meals and always glanced over their shoulders in nervous thank yous as he sat on the porch watching them. He understood and accepted their entreaties with an attempt to do more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As a child of the Internet, he quickly learned about Trap/Neuter/Return... the best way to care for a colony of feral cats. He found a local, friendly TNR feral cat group that helped spay and neuter the community cats for a decent fee that he could afford. Things were going well. He had gotten into a routine and enjoyed knowing he was making a difference in the lives of critters he would never truly know. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then one day it started. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rocks were pelted against his windows. Never one to cower, he went to his porch and saw no one. The perpetrators had fled without a trace. He walked outside to the window and saw it was cracked; an additional expense - but, he would have it fixed by the weekend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next day he took the smallest kitten of a feral he called Pearl to be 'spayed'. The little girl did very well and after watching her carefully for a night, he returned her to Pearl. He fixed the damaged window that weekend and thought no more of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was after school on the following Tuesday the second incident happened. A young mother,in her twenties was passing his house with her two young children. The boy and girl were about five and six. A dog followed the woman closely. It was a hound. Hounds are known to chase cats; it's their way, and this hound was no different. He saw the little kitten that had just been spayed and began running after her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The woman saw her children following the dog into the man's yard. He thought she would call her dog off, as he walked outside to see what the commotion was. Instead she yelled, "Kill the cat! Get him! Kill him."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He couldn't believe his eyes. But, knowing his littlest was in grave danger, he spoke up quickly. "Hey, get off my property! Get your dog out of here!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The woman looked at him and laughed. The kids laughed with her and the dog caught up to the kitten. The man ran down the steps and approached the hound. The dog backed off just as he was about to grab the kitten's tail. Barking loudly, he turned on the man. The children ran behind their mother's legs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The woman was furious that her blood lust found no release. "Leave my dog alone!" She screeched, putting her hands on the children's heads. The man looked at her long and hard. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Lady, I feel sorry for you... but, more sorry for your children. Get out of here, and never step on my property again." The woman gave him the finger in front of her boy and girl and hastily walked away; hound following obediently.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The man went to the back of his home and found Pearl. She was anxiously licking her kitten and looked up at the man with wide, trusting eyes. He felt her gratitude, but, worried deeply. What was happening? He had never faced a person so angry and aggressive towards a helpless animal before, encouraging violence in front of children.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a mean season. He knew his small act of kindness would soon test his mettle.. but, he had no doubt in his perseverance. He walked inside his home. Next weekend, a taller fence would be built.</span>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-28167052790700146092014-03-30T17:07:00.003-05:002015-09-17T13:14:01.252-05:00"The Kitten Who Could" A Children's Tale<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnOsJa4ITk7b_CKkyc_tm7QXG8wr1XwhWXKwwbyD-0FuPTM7XJnjuuYTA8wPPyNnxvoTNtKCPYelcPZWT5ZMXarUV93ZSXiBjOxOXd_3DpPV3pHCPf_IZs4idGZouYEBUulcddlPxvYD4/s1600/KittenButterfly_Painting_bak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnOsJa4ITk7b_CKkyc_tm7QXG8wr1XwhWXKwwbyD-0FuPTM7XJnjuuYTA8wPPyNnxvoTNtKCPYelcPZWT5ZMXarUV93ZSXiBjOxOXd_3DpPV3pHCPf_IZs4idGZouYEBUulcddlPxvYD4/s1600/KittenButterfly_Painting_bak.jpg" width="271" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">T</span>here was a kitten who could</div>
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Leap high in the sky and almost touch a butterfly;</div>
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Chase bugs in the sunlight and all through the night;</div>
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Rub green grass with his nose in a proud kitten pose;</div>
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Shimmy up a tree and back down with ease;</div>
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Climb mountains of rocks and hide in loose socks;</div>
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Run round and round and, all dizzy, fall down;</div>
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Make a loud mew when he found something new;</div>
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Cuddle in mom's fur and purr and purr;</div>
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Sleep all day-then just run away;</div>
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Smell fresh flowers and play for hours;</div>
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Jump in the air just on a dare.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">O</span>ne day, he got taken away</div>
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And the kitten who could,</div>
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Knew he couldn't do what he wanted to;</div>
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Escape the box at the pound,</div>
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With its cold, nasty locks</div>
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Until the girl came along,</div>
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And took him on home.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">T</span>hen the kitten who could,</div>
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Found in the end, </div>
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Nothing else mattered,</div>
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Besides having a friend.</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Story & Illustration PhotoArt @2014 Kim Yvonne Cady</b></span></i></div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-56770261890331956362014-01-18T20:00:00.001-06:002014-12-05T11:35:57.141-06:00Shandor's Eyes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdD24II3YeF-WyREMsTjaOojvuuGEh7wFNi-UFw1QqbFjhqS3DLzqQVpkCyOKGAMvw9Z5UpVc3aBROj3if8fgmoHT0XKKxZD4C18oitI92lovtNEsWj1nKWPVn5InCFWLhbVjBZIbECc/s1600/Shandorseyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdD24II3YeF-WyREMsTjaOojvuuGEh7wFNi-UFw1QqbFjhqS3DLzqQVpkCyOKGAMvw9Z5UpVc3aBROj3if8fgmoHT0XKKxZD4C18oitI92lovtNEsWj1nKWPVn5InCFWLhbVjBZIbECc/s1600/Shandorseyes.jpg" height="141" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">Shandor's eyes see visions of death no more, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">as he leads her slowly through the haze, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">past the veil into where the light envelopes light </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">across the Rainbow Bridge...</span></span>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-12860680001154704852011-07-02T15:16:00.013-05:002014-12-05T11:38:14.590-06:00The Code of the Spirit Cat<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7HnpFGMhU3N0FSvs6k7nHhg8XAJ8xsdsbzw033_FBoEG-IGej4fFuQubAF01we83thVh-5roNT9sWJskl9MA-v2xPTZiFoW2kdqiKY4wD3oyVXpDmyXA9H8Wy275Ff5S9v42NqDYOQiE/s1600/spiritcat_Painting2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7HnpFGMhU3N0FSvs6k7nHhg8XAJ8xsdsbzw033_FBoEG-IGej4fFuQubAF01we83thVh-5roNT9sWJskl9MA-v2xPTZiFoW2kdqiKY4wD3oyVXpDmyXA9H8Wy275Ff5S9v42NqDYOQiE/s400/spiritcat_Painting2.jpg" height="215" width="400" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Always protect those who are weaker than you.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Listen before reply; knowledge is power.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When carrying out the task, take the hardest path; for in the sacrifice comes the learning.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Accept a challenge and see it through; you will be liberated.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Prudence in attack is required.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Protect those you love always.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Humility is good; but never under estimate your powers.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Always keep your grooming up no matter how bad you feel!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Give thanks to the Spirits that help one along everyday in every way.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wait at the Rainbow Bridge for your companion’s arrival to continue the journey.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: xx-small;"><em>"The Spirit Cat" Photo Illustration by Kim Cady</em></span><br />
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</span>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-46289183989418772332011-06-27T17:27:00.002-05:002017-11-10T15:38:09.988-06:00Sam Guest - The Teacher<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOs9GTQXNamp9cGL7puDfIwcoVj9A1kjTzJBaxgWKPBK7nLu5fDFx6FRfqlBGP1IqaM8nT9QVY373hEgKvPto0WhLK2OqJNew5kuA0uJbfzEPKK5SephVeZTpXj1K3KbMZy0JGh3V-VmM/s1600/sam2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOs9GTQXNamp9cGL7puDfIwcoVj9A1kjTzJBaxgWKPBK7nLu5fDFx6FRfqlBGP1IqaM8nT9QVY373hEgKvPto0WhLK2OqJNew5kuA0uJbfzEPKK5SephVeZTpXj1K3KbMZy0JGh3V-VmM/s200/sam2.jpg" true="" width="161" /></a><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype><shape alt="sam2.jpg" id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 169.2pt; margin-left: 3.3pt; margin-top: 97.8pt; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: margin; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 138.3pt; z-index: 1;" type="#_x0000_t75"><imagedata o:title="sam2" src="file:///C:\Users\KIMSHP~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"></imagedata><wrap anchorx="margin" anchory="margin" type="square"></wrap></shape><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sam Guest moved to Beaufleuve from Colorado. As an “air force brat”, he actually moved from the West multiple times. At nineteen, on his own, he chose a different path from his parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He began the pursuit of his lifelong dream to teach. One of the best teacher’s colleges in the US was in Beau Fleur, so Sam followed his dream and enrolled. After getting his degree, he decided to stay in Beau Fleur and found a perfect bachelor’s cottage house on Abbottsford Road. It was right down the street from the campus where he began as an instructor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sam always had a conscience. He always felt sympathetic to other people’s troubles. He also had a great love of nature and animals which, he believed, was inherited from his mother who was a nature photographer. So once moved in, he took note of the preponderance of cats! There were tortiseshells, ruddy reds, blues, goldens, blacks and whites. They were small, tall, old and young; curly eared, straight eared, wide and thin. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It certainly appeared <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as though they ran things!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One day, Sam met one of his more interesting neighbors, Magikys Cigany, who happened to live kitty-corner from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maggie, as she was called by most in the neighborhood, was the resident “cat lady”. Yet, by no means as ordinary cat lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was very friendly and introduced a few of the tamer cats to Sam by name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He began watching the antics of the Abbottsford Road cats in the evening when he sat on his porch with a glass of wine; or in the morning with his first cup of coffee. He found it was both relaxing and enjoyable to watch the crews comings and goings. One morning, Maggie stopped over to join him for coffee. He asked the inevitable question: why didn’t the cats smell as bad as some neighborhood cats?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maggie started talking and Sam was captivated. She shared coffee and tea throughout that lovely summer Saturday, and explained the problems feral cats face. She explained to Sam how a program called Trap, Neuter and Release, was taking the country by storm to help quell the overpopulation of the well-meaning cat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sam learned about the local TNR group that would go out and literally trap feral cats; take the cat to a sterile clinic and have them neutered or spayed, vetted & ear-tipped. The ear-tipping, in Maggie’s words, was “like a wink that said I’m feral, I’m free and I’m vetted” to the public.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He became intrigued and asked Maggie if he could accompany her on a TNR outing. There was no hesitation on her part. A new recruit!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For Sam, whose closest brush with wildlife lately were the young students he taught, it was great fun. He became that recruit Maggie had hoped for. He learned everything about TNR, joined the trapping sessions, contributed to the cause and felt good about it. He even started helping Maggie with the local Abbottsford colony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he learned about the “core” group, as Maggie called the seven cats that seemed the oldest and most in control of the colony, he started a carpentry project and built much needed winter-proofed cat housing for the colonies survival and comfort through Beaufleuve’s frigid winters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sam was hooked, by Abbottsford Road, the neighbors. and the cats. He was a teacher in more ways than one. Soon, Sam would find out just how much he meant to the Abbottsford colony and how much they cared for him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sam was part of the destiny that would place him in both romance and danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deep inside, he knew something was afoot … and, truthfully, he couldn’t wait!</span></div>
Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-47350995212158687042011-06-22T13:57:00.005-05:002014-12-05T11:40:49.405-06:00Brett Jelenti - A Cruel Man <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4b8cx0AkYiXiclE33ylnBr5I8h7yncu7xuZd0SjHx2VkbYVrdQqdXlkilxwnHw7EUIzFoEaLR32CT_6TJ1DP-6EfEsHFGpWQrU_ZNuLMEhmw4JuyzdLN5Tn-c7xhlFaVlmwpZlcmaaU/s1600/jelenti3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih4b8cx0AkYiXiclE33ylnBr5I8h7yncu7xuZd0SjHx2VkbYVrdQqdXlkilxwnHw7EUIzFoEaLR32CT_6TJ1DP-6EfEsHFGpWQrU_ZNuLMEhmw4JuyzdLN5Tn-c7xhlFaVlmwpZlcmaaU/s200/jelenti3.JPG" height="320" i="i" true="true" width="209" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Brett Jelenti was born outside of Beaufleur, in a suburb called Viande, the son of a wealthy lawyer. He was the only son, burdened with the expectations of an extremely ambitious father. Mr. Jelenti expected his son to run his practice when he retired. All of his father's ambitions fell on Brett’s shoulders as Mr. Jelenti began to lose firm grasp on reality. Brett’s father became consumed by alcohol when he was 45 years old. The older man hid his affliction well while he was building the business. Now that it had flourished, the lack of challenge, dealing with a son that was both brilliant and troublesome, and secret financial worries pushed him over the edge. He was hospitalized three times for alcohol poisoning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">It was Brett who found his dad dead of a gunshot wound to his head. When he found him, he sat a moment next to his father’s dead body and smoked a cigarette. He picked up the bottle of Scotch that the old man had left on the kitchen table and took a swig. Then he calmly dialed 911 and left the house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">After the funeral, at the reading of the will, Brett had expected to share quite a bit of money with his mother and sister. Unfortunately, Mr. Jelenti had troubles with the IRS it seemed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whys of his suicide became apparent. He had been fighting the IRS for years with no one's knowledge. His practice was in shambles and the IRS was beating down his door. The estate owed money. There was nothing left.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Brett, himself, went out and got drunk that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He woke up with a splitting headache, a stranger in his bed and an idea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He never was too keen on finishing school to become a lawyer. His father had known that. Yet, through his schooling Brett learned he could be quite charming when he needed to. He wasn’t a bad looking guy according to the string of women he dated. After putting these positive traits together, and the fact that he really had no interest in being poor or working a day job, he came up with an alternative occupation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He would woo rich, older women and steal them blind!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a bad job actually. They could afford it. He saw how his mother used to spend his father's money. If anything went missing, the insurance would cover it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, he'd be giving these old wealthy hags a chance at a brief romance in their twilight years. A win-win situation!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">So Brett Jelenti began his career as a thief and gigolo. Treating woman well was never one of Brett's strong points. Yet, he learned quickly how to flatter the older of the fairer sex and get into their beds and wallets. Once in their house, he carefully chose what to take. He chose jewelry that was rarely worn, therefore, rarely missed. He actually was shocked at how many of these women just threw huge quantities of gold and jewels in dresser drawers never to be noticed again. He noticed them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">He became quite good at his occupation and was making a healthy paycheck. One day he read about an older woman who was famous for helping animals in Beau Fleur. He could care less about that. What caught his eye was the rest of the article. She was supposed to have a treasure trove of antiques that had "magical" powers. Well, whether they had magical powers or not, he was sure the old lady had a treasure trove!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">So he set his sites on Magikys Cigany, the eccentric old gypsy of Abbottsford Road. Soon Brett would not only learn that some of the artifacts were indeed magical, but, he would also remember his encounter with Maggie and her "friends" - The Abbottsford Cats - for the rest of his life.</span></div>
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</script><br />Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-76763963438424370332011-06-20T21:44:00.003-05:002014-12-05T11:41:21.820-06:00"Magikys Cigany" The Gypsy Queen <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It seems these days, where humans are, cats must be too. Truthfully, the African Wild Cat was a solitary wild cat that really didn't mix well with humans. Throughout the ages, after luring and domesticating some less leery wild cats, both in Africa and Europe, humans discovered that cats were very helpful with keeping smaller varmints at bay in addition to comforting their humans in times of trouble. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, humans have also vilified the cat as a being not quite animal, but, belying an intelligence and spirit as deep as the human spirit. This characteristic of the feline was feared by the rabble in the middle ages and, surprisingly, by some of the clergy. That clergy, though, were self-seeking types who were looking for scapegoats for their own misdeeds. The poor cat was a perfect target. Luckily the middle-ages passed, and the cat took her rightful place by the side of cat-adoring humans again. That "specialness" of the feline became one his most endearing traits. The mystery, loyalty and love of a cat was something a human longed for but did not know quite how to handle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Abbottsford Cats are quite special, and much of that is because of the symbiosis among these feral throwaways, one special woman, and her special cat. Magikys Cigany, who most called Maggie, was born in the United States, the only granddaughter of Hungarian immigrants. Her grandparents loved the old country completely and taught Maggie all of their ways. They were gypsies. They lived by the Roma gypsy rules. Maggie's grandfather was pure Romani and her grandmother was Hungarian. Caught in a prejudice against her grandfather, her grandparents decided to move to the land of plenty. The land without prejudice - the United States of America. They saved what they could from her grandfather's musical ability on the violin and her grandmother's seamstress skills. They boarded the ship to New York City three months pregnant with with Maggie's mother, Ana. It was both a journey of trepidation and elation. There was no turning back when they arrived. After deciding to settle in a small city near the Grand Lakes, BeauFleur, they began to take root. They lived in a house full of magic, music and love. Ana married briefly. Her husband died in a factory accident just a year after marriage. She lived the rest of her days with her parents. Maggie was born just after her father passed. She was special from the start. Her grandfather was the first to see that Maggie understood the old ways. He would spend hours with her teaching her the magic of the playing cards, geomancy, and music. Maggie introduced the cats.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She brought home every homeless kitten in the neighborhood. She learned to bottle feed kittens, raise them with love, and find good homes for them. She excelled in school, but, made few friends. She was plagued by nightmares of a vision that she could not forget in the daylight. Her grandfather finally gave her a book when she was 20 years old. She read the book and never said a word to anyone about it. Her grandfather died the year after she read it . Her grandmother passed soon after. Maggie took care of her mother in the same house they had all lived in all twenty-two of her years. She had no desire to leave Abbottsford Road. Everything she loved was right there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a brief illness, her mother passed too, and Maggie was alone. She had inherited a great deal of money. Where it came from was a mystery. Her mother had a settlement from the factory for her father's death and invested wisely. But, even that could not explain all the money Maggie inherited. She decided to honor her heritage and the book that she would let no one read. She used some of the money to study the ways of the Romani people. She travelled throughout Hungary, Romania and India and met many relatives. Through these travels, she learned powerful secrets and brought home much magic. She knew you could not really buy magic, but, many of the lessons she learned from her grandfather and her travels went into designing her house on Abbottsford with magical treasures she carefully bought in the old country. With the wisdom of her grandfather and those she had met in the old country, she began to learn powerful spells of healing. She wanted to heal. The spells of love, revenge,and such did not interest her. She wanted only to heal. So Maggie lived for 30 years on Abbottsford Road, healing those who called for her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She had a brief affair and one daughter; then closed the door on romance. Healing was her destiny. But, her life was cursed. The curse was spelled out deep in her tattered old book. It was a source of sadness, yet, a source of inspiration to continue her work as a healer of animals on this Earth as long as she was able. Yet, destiny moves at its own speed. Maggie would soon learn that it has a way of creeping up on one when it's least expected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><strong> "Magikys Cigany" @2012 Kim Yvonne Cady</strong></span><br />
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</script></span><br />Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-11509521156121862922011-06-17T20:31:00.005-05:002014-12-05T11:43:08.976-06:00Yiva - The Spirit Cat <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yiva is a Spirit Cat sworn to uphold the Code of a Spirit Cat. She was born like any other kitten, but, endowed with a sense and need to find a human soul mate. She didn't have far to look. Magikys Cigany (Maggie as her friends called her), was born on Abbottsford Road in the city of BeauFleur raised by her Hungarian parents to respect the ways of the old country. She spoke the language and had the accent her parents had. She was well-versed in the ways of everything gypsy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A good cat was hard to come by. A good cat was what a gypsy needed to run ahead of her and warn her of danger when on the road. A dog ran in packs and would run off at the sight of a pack in the old country. A good cat stayed close and through the acute feline senses became a protector and comforter to her chosen human.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maggie knew she needed a good cat. Little did she know how good of a cat she found when she found little Yiva in her nip beds in the back of her house. Maggie would plant catnip in her garden to add a little spice to the lives of the Abbottsford Cats that ruled the neighborhood. She had taught Sam, a gentle rather non-cat man how to trap, neuter and release a feral cat back into the neighborhood when it was found. By doing this, the cats would keep the mice and rats at bay. They would be fed, watered and protected in the winter with the fabulous cat houses Sam could make. Also, they would not overpopulate the area and keep other felines out. Yiva, just appeared, looked about six weeks old, and was extremely independent for a kitten that young. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maggie didn't really find her. Yiva found Maggie. She sat in those cat nip beds and let out the loudest yowl that the neighborhood had heard in years. The kitten was extremely satisfied with herself when the woman came outside and found her. She let her pick her up and immediately demanded food with a frantic continuous yowling of a lessor volume.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It wasn't long before the gypsy began teaching the apt pupil the ways of a familiar. Yiva was an eager learner. Maggie was no longer alone with her magic; and Yiva, the Spirit Cat, had fulfilled one of the main decrees of the Code. With the Yiva, Maggie's magic was complete.</span><br />
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</script>Kim Cadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12542638148260216481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-710987070234987103.post-64031051584670714052011-06-09T20:22:00.011-05:002014-12-05T11:43:38.907-06:00"Delikatny" The Healer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1SmljFJ07LvT0ezaSN8q8kL906ipYhYCz_NxitX2WXBZRpyn6QScCmr5JxfZ-9it4filwOXK38kWFCOdrv65W7y-rwiTKfABlKjza01NPy0tee2cJvP295PDZ6YhjFscN0ZZNPouYxU/s320/TheHealer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1SmljFJ07LvT0ezaSN8q8kL906ipYhYCz_NxitX2WXBZRpyn6QScCmr5JxfZ-9it4filwOXK38kWFCOdrv65W7y-rwiTKfABlKjza01NPy0tee2cJvP295PDZ6YhjFscN0ZZNPouYxU/s320/TheHealer.JPG" height="263" t8="true" width="320" /></a><span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">
</span></span><span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">
</span></span><span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">Delikatny
was born in the desert of Las Vegas. His nest was situated behind a small
casino near the dumpster. For a hungry mother cat, heavy with kittens, this was
a close-to-perfect spot for a litter.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One evening, a cocktail waitress saw
the scruffy, white cat scamper to the dumpster. Stealthily, she followed her back
her kittens. Enthralled, she gave them snacks on her breaks. Lobster, steak,
ham, and caviar were standard. The family benefitted greatly from Vegas’ “free
buffet” policy. The manager would ordinarily have a litter ousted by the local
animal control. But he was sweet on the kind-hearted waitress. She convinced
him to leave them alone. In the meantime, she phoned her feline-savvy friend
and prepared to find homes for the entire bunch.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">
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<span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">The mama had never known people. She
was a true feral and wary. The friend knew if she didn’t catch her the first
time, there would be no second try. The girl, waitress, and manager set up one
trap after stopping the flow of food for a day. They hoped a delectable sardine
and lobster bisque would entice this wild thing from the dumpster into their
well-concealed cage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">Since Las Vegas is a 24 hour town,
the waitress set up a series of sentries to keep an eye on the cage. Coyotes
were rampant in Vegas, especially around the casinos. She didn’t want Ivory (as
she named Mama) to meet a bad end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">It worked. That morning, mama was
throwing herself against the wire cage, hissing and spitting like a snake. They
quickly gathered up the kittens, who were barely two weeks old, and hustled the
family off to the feral-friendly vet who had the scars to prove it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">The trapping group found a ranch to
take the family. Mama had the run of the barn. She hid each of her kits in a
fine nest and never ran out of milk. In a month, the three kittens were
scampering all over. Two were female and one was male. The waitress decided to
take the male. Although slower than the others, she whispered to the manager,
“He has a cream color coat that’s to die for.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">Sunny, as she named him, was
different than most cats. He never stopped purring. When she'd hold him, he
purred louder. At times, he walked in circles and then flop down where he stopped.
The vet felt he had some nerve problems, but didn't think it was serious. He pronounced
Sunny happy and healthy. She was relieved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">One day, the waitress never woke up.
Sunny lay on her legs looking up at her ashen face. He meowed and decided to
sleep by her hair. She was so still. He moved to her chest. When the paramedics
came in, they pulled him gently off the girl. It was an overdose. Not
understanding what 'overdose' meant, Sunny tried to keep these strangers away
from his friend. He bit one hand hard. The attendant threw him on the floor and
kept working on the girl. She didn't move.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">Something in Sunny clicked. She
left. She went somewhere else. He could barely smell her anymore. She was gone.
He decided to look for her and crept out the half-opened door unnoticed. In the
desert heat, he began his quest. He looked for her everywhere in the strange
city. He'd never seen so many people and buildings. He kept searching.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">One day, a little girl pointed at
him. “Daddy, daddy, kitty, kitty”. The daddy could see that this cat had seen
better days. Sunny had been walking the Las Vegas Strip for weeks - eating out
of dumpsters and drinking from fountains. The man was a good-hearted man. He
picked him up and noticed his blue collar. He'd call the number and reunite the
cat with his owner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">The family put Sunny in the back of
the SUV with litter, food and water. He was beside himself. He knew he had to
find the waitress - his only real friend. There was no time for this family. He
escaped at the first gas station that they stopped at. The little girl opened the
door and he was gone. They searched for him for hours and finally gave up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">Now Sunny was in the real desert.
The family was staying at a hotel outside of the city. It was barren and hot.
He ran under the gas station then set out to return to the glittering city east
of him. It was blistering the next day. There was no water anywhere.
Dehydration was catching up to him. He decided to stop for a moment and slept. It
was no ordinary sleep. It was the sleep of death. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">Then he saw her. His friend! She
waved gently and told him to turn back - it wasn’t his time. She explained that
when he laid on her, he saved her. She was alive; but, barely. She would be
going far away where he couldn’t go, to help her get better. He was a healer.
She had always known he was special. Then she disappeared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">The family discovered him half dead
on the highway. They also learned the fate of the young waitress. She knew she
was in for the fight of her life as she got clean. She was ready to face what
she had to.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-themecolor: text1;">The family adopted the quiet Sunny and flew him home to BeauFleur. That was fine with Sunny. In BeauFleur, Sunny joined the Abbottsford Cats and was dubbed, Delikayny, for his gentle ways. He became the clowder's Healer.</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Delikatny" The Healer @ PhotoArt by Kim Yvonne Cady</span></span></em></div>
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</script><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">"Sunny Sees" Photograph by Kim Cady @2011</span>
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