[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments for July submission re: Martia

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

This chapter covers a lot ofterritory.  



I know that she had been attacked. It isvbarely mentioned, yet so much of the story springs from that trauma.  



Ugly cat grows into white swan cat.  



Mom gets burglarized . 



She gets married, babies and another cat. 



Plus she moves again. 



The story is now opened to many possibilities  and there are many questions to beanswered.  



Despite the fact that so much hashappened, the chapter seems transitional. 



Is that intended?




 


TheUgly Barn Cat part 2



 



WordCount:  1491



 



Iwasn’t sure why Mom called her car a “Rabbit,” but Once again, she wedged a boxlined with towels in the back of her hatchback for me to travel in. This time,Mom’s friend from college helped us drive from Coloradoto California.Before hitting the road, they installed an eight-track cassette player toentertain us along the way. The trip was boring until we got a flat tire justover the border into Nevada.Mom and her friend didn’t want to be stranded in a small town, so we paid toomuch money for a new tire and drove on. 



 



Mom’sfriend was a big cat lover. I liked sharing her bed at the motels we stopped atalong the way. She played with me like I was a normal kitten. My fragile legsgrew stronger jumping at the string she dangled. After two days of driving, wereached the “Bay Area.” Mom said we were about 3,000 miles away from the barnwhere I was born.



 



“Ican’t get far enough away from New York,” she said. I guess she wanted to protect mefrom the fleas and horses.



 



Unfortunately,when we reached California,we couldn’t live with the nice lady who loved cats. She had something called aboyfriend and two cats of her own. Instead, we stayed with another friend ofMom’s from high school, but she was allergic to cats like my Mom’s mom, so itwas back to the basement for me. I sure was getting a slow start on learninghow to be a cat in the light of day. When you’re confined to barns andbasements and boxes, it’s pretty scary to stick your nose out the door. Ihadn’t learned how to meow. I was happy hiding quietly in the dark until Mommade it home from work to feed me. Alone, I dreamed of changing from an uglybarn cat into a fluffy white feline, like the ugly duckling that turned into anelegant swan. 



 



 



Ittook Mom three months to find a place of our own. By then, I was nine monthsold. My white fur had filled in all over my body. I looked like a softball withears when I was curled up on the bed, Mom said. Of course, our housing choiceswere limited on account of my being a cat.



 “The market sure is competitive - I can’tbelieve I need a resume of my rental history just like I need for my jobhistory. And, the rent is double what I was paying in New York,” she complained. 



 



Momlanded a place down the hill from her friend. Down the hill meant dropping intoa poorer neighborhood, closer to the interstate, closer to crime. Mom was kindof nervous about living alone for the first time since she had beenattacked.  I chirped, trying  to convince Mom that I would guard ourplace - as long as I could do it safely from under the bed. It didn’t bother methat their were bars outside the windows to protect us from the bad guys, butMom made curtains in the bedroom to hide the bars from view. Inside, our placewas wonderful. I skittered about the living room and bedroom on hardwoodfloors. A picture window in the living room overlooked a grassy and secludedback yard. Mom placed a wicker stool topped with a soft cushion in the centerof the window for me to watch the world outside. Perched like a princess on mythrone, I chirped at the birds and squirrels, guarding our home from intruders.I was in heaven. I had no desire myself to venture outside; the view throughthe window suited me fine. I laid on the cushion all day, sleeping or groomingmy fur, soft as the down on a swan’s belly.  I tried to rub out the darkspot on the top of my head that made me look like I’d fallen head first into abucket of black paint. It was kind of strange – my mom had a splash of white onher black hair like she’s brushed it with white paint. We were each touched inthe head, I figured.



Icould tell that Mom was getting stronger like me. She shopped at a popularimport store for tables and lamps, excited to set up our home. At a furniturestore, she bought her first-ever new couch, although it was the cheapest one onthe floor. She hung lace panels in front of the picture window to provideprivacy without blocking the sunlight or my view. At a department store, shefound grey bath towels to complement the pink tile work in the bathroom. Forthe first time in a long while, she functioned like a confident adult. 



 



Oneday while Mom was at work, a loud crash sent me scrambling for cover. Strangemen kicked in the back door, so I squeezed myself into the springs of Mom’s newcouch. I peaked through a crack in the cushions and watched while theyransacked drawers and cupboards. I saw them drop some of Mom’s stuff into abag. They left the way they’d come in, leaving a gaping hole in the back door. 



 



Mompanicked when she came home. I was nowhere to be found, she imagined I hadescaped through the busted door during the burglary. The impact of thesplintering door would have scared me into bolting, she worried. She told thepolice that the thieves had taken a jar of change and an old gold wedding band,but these things were of no value to her. On the other hand, she couldn’t bearto lose Yoda, her ugly barn cat. Mom and I needed each other. I was bedraggledand neglected; she was Recovering from a rough time, too. 



 



Fortwo days, I trembled inside the couch, unwilling to come out even after all thecommotion died down. After all, I was accustomed to hiding in dark placeswithout uttering a sound. Mom sat on the couch and cried about losing me, but Iknew I wasn’t lost. I just wasn’t ready to reveal myself until hunger pangsdrove me out of hiding. Mom screamed when she felt my paws bat her butt whenshe sat on the couch the third day. You would have thought the sky was falling,the way Mom jumped off the cushion. Blinking back tears of disbelief at mydiscovery, She scrambled to fill my water bowl and food dish.



 



“Maybemy luck is beginning to change,” she exclaimed. She pulled up a cushion andfound a rip in the fabric covering the couch springs. From that day forward, mycat house was in the couch. Mom never worried because she knew just where I was- when I wasn’t preening in front of the picture window.



 



Mommade new friends and occasionally brought someone over to watch a movie orshare a meal. Most of her friends never knew that Mom had a cat because Irarely came out of hiding when anyone was in our home. Then, one guy keptcoming around all the time so that I got tired of the couch. He was alwayssitting on it with her. He must have weighed twice as much because hecompressed the springs twice as far. One day, I spanked his butt with my pawand he jumped up saying, “What the hell?”



 



Afterthat, I didn’t bother to hide from him but I scratched and clawed at his handswhenever he tried to pick me up or play with me on his lap. Didn’t he know Iwas the runt of the litter and couldn’t play rough like that?



 



Ithought I was holding my own, secure in my place as queen of the castle, untilthe man came up with a terrible idea.



 



“Iknow what! We should get another cat to play with her while we’re at work. Sheneeds another cat to keep her company,” he suggested. Somehow, Mom got talkedinto the idea. One day, the man brought home a black and grey cat with banditeyes that made him look like a raccoon. But, for whatever reason, the guy namedthe cat “Beaver.” 



 



Beaverliked to beat me up when Mom wasn’t around.  He also liked to eat my food.That’s when I went back into hiding in the couch. I thought I was losing thebattle, but then my Mom and the man moved me and Beaver into a bigger housewith more hiding places. That was a good thing, because along came a couple ofbaby girls to add to the chaos. Mom left me alone to hide, busy with babies andwork and that man. She didn’t notice at first that I had grown into a fluffywhite feline even more elegant than a swan.



(tobe continued)



 



 
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