Nalla

A parking lot,

Christmas rush,

Coldest temps and

Coal black slush,

She’s left alone.

Baby kitten,

Eyes still shut,

Boys want to use

Her little butt

And let her moan.

Found in time

By a loving soul

Who knew a place

To make her whole

And so rescued her.

She has grown,

And she has healed.

A whole family’s

Hearts appealed

To hear her purr.

© 2005, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw. All rights reserved.

Nalla, Puck, Then Misha

Nalla, Puck, Then Misha

“But, I’m allergic to cats. My asthma will flair up. And, well, I have never lived with a cat before. I don’t know the first thing about cat care. And, Chunky, (our dog,) what about Chunky?” I stammered into the phone. “But, please don’t let her die.”

And so I entered the world of cat “owner” and, quickly thereafter, cat lover.

I had always had animal companions in my life, but until Christmas 2002, cats had not been a part of my immediate household. Cats had been neighbors and friends but not housemates. But that all changed when Nalla, a gray and black striped tabby, decided to enter our lives. We have learned much since then, and our lives are fuller now.

She was only three weeks old, eyes barely open, extremely tiny, almost frozen, and very hungry when our son’s fiancée’s uncle found the kitten in a snow-covered Baltimore parking lot just before Christmas. She was also frightened and needy. Being kind-hearted and also knowing that his niece had wanted a cat, he scooped the baby up and took her home. Later that day, we got the phone call asking if we would allow the kitten to live here as no one else either could or would take her. Since I had had a longing for a cat that stayed in the back of my mind always, it didn’t take much convincing, despite the real quandaries that responsibility would pose. Besides, my heart ached for the wee furry orphan.

As it turned out, all my initial concerns about my asthma, allergies, cat care, the dog, and all were not that difficult to overcome. Cats generally take care of themselves with just a bit of input and lots of love from us. The asthma was tamed via keeping the cat shampooed and the house clean. The dog adopted her as her own—an arrangement totally acceptable to Nalla. And, we did not have too long before other feline friends decided to adopt us as well.

Just this past June, we rescued a black nine-month-old cat from extremely neglectful and even abusive owners. We named him Puck.

Then on the Fourth of July, a medium long-haired 3-week-old kitten showed up on our back porch, covered in muck, fleas, and blood. Apparently someone had tried to get rid of him and then thrown him out of the car near our home. Misha, as we named him, came to us. How could we refuse?

Now we have a very full house. All our animal friends are well loved and even spoiled, but we are the more blessed ones because of their presence in our lives.

I stammered into the phone. I stammered into the phone.

(C)2005, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, written for The Catnip Chronicles.

Buzz Cuts, Chainsaw Massacres, and the Terror that Stalks in the Dark

Buzz Cuts, Chainsaw Massacres, and the Terror that Stalks in the Dark

written for my cousins BJ, Becky, & friends

    BJ and his new bride had another young newlywed
couple over one stormy night. BJ, my cousin, had his house on
higher ground, so they all thought they should be safe there from
the rapidly rising floodwaters. So, they did what many young folk
tend to do in such situations--they drank beer, munched various
snacks, and watched horror flicks....well, and joked and cuddled
as well.
    Suddenly, a huge oak tree fell just down the
road from them as the lightning struck hard and the thunder shook
the whole area. Then everything went black except for the
intermittent lightning flashes. The storm continued to rage. The
wind was fierce.
    Then they heard it. A buzzing sound with a
strong thump, thump, thump against the back walls of the house.
    Where was the dog? BJ had a monster of a watch
dog who was a trained attack and search dog. He was so fierce and
so good at his job, that the sheriff had even named the dog
"Monster." Trust me, the name fit too.
    But, why was Monster so quiet right now? Was he, perhaps, on the stalking mode and about to attack whoever was
obviously trying to find a way into the house to harm the young
folk? Or, was Monster already dead and they were to be next?
    The storm intensified even as the buzzing and
thumping grew louder and more persistent.
    The women began to cry and shake.
    BJ then gathered what courage he could muster and
found a flashlight...a small one with weak batteries, but it would
have to do. So, he asked Rob to go with him and maybe they could
both subdue the villian somehow. They had to protect the women, and
it was clear to them by now that Monster was never going to make
anymore noise. So, Rob grabbed a bat, and BJ grabbed a steak knife.
They told the women to stay put, but the women were having none of
that.
    So, the women also grabbed weapons--an umbrella
and a cast iron frying pan. And, slowly and as quietly as they could,
they went into the back room where the noise seemed to be coming from.
    There in the dark room, in the corner by the open window was a big shadow that looked like someone covered
with a blanket. The buzzing and the thumping was coming from there.
    "AH!! Take that!" they all screamed as they beat
the crap out of the intruder who quickly stopped buzzing and
thumping.
    Then they closed the window, locked the door to
the room and barricaded it and returned to the front to bundle
up together for the rest of the dark, stormy night without a lot
of sleep, I might add. Well, they were too frightened.
    The next morning, they went into the back room to inspect the quieted stranger. They quickly discussed how they
would report the stranger's death to the sheriff. It was self-defense
after all! Once in front of the blanket-bundled heap on the floor,
BJ pulled off the blanket and jumped back.
    "What the... ? Why, those are the sacks of our
clothes and things we brought with us," said Rob in stunned shock.
    "And, this...," BJ said as he riffled through the
mess made of the sacks and found their assailant, "... is one huge
but extremely dead vibrator, man! I have never seen such a vicious
specimen."
    And, they have never yet been able to live
down the tale of the Chainsaw Vibrator Massacre.

Copyright 2001, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw. All rights reserved.
This is based on the true story as told by the heroes. The names
have not been changed to protect the guilty, errr, innocent.

On the Galapagos Isles

On the Galapagos Isles

(Sung to the tune of  “Under the Mango Tree”)

Under the frozen maple tree
An iguana longs for heat...
Under the spreading maple tree
An iguana has frozen feet.

Peanuts, and pumpkin, and pecan pie,
Apples, and walnuts, and cherry pie,
When I get warmer then I will tell...
If they are as good as they smell.

Under the frozen maple tree
A lonely iguana cries,
Under the frozen maple tree
Tears turn to frosty eyes.

Feathers, blue feet, and shiny beak,
A blue footed booby, can she speak?
"Come to the Isles where the wind is warm--
Much better temp for your form!"

Under the frozen maple tree
The iguana's heart is hot...
Under the frozen maple tree
A friend's love warms the spot.

(C) January 09, 2003, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

*written for Anita Cooper (the blue-footed boobie) as a part of our playful banter over going to the Galapagos together… I am the Iguana 

**I am in Frostburg, MD during a very cold and snowy winter. Anita is in St. David, Arizona teasing me about he much warmer climate.

Captain Cat Sails the Chesapeake Bay

Captain Cat Sails the Chesapeake Bay

A cat went to sea
With his family

Upon the Chesapeake Bay.

His family of six

And he did mix

On that bright and sunny day.

“Let’s sail! Let’s sail!”

His meows did hail

As he strutted onto the boat.

He wasn’t as glad

When dear old Dad

Put a life jacket over his coat.

Then he started to purr

And at least concur—

It’s better safe than drowned.

“Now hoist those sails

And to the rails,”

His meows did start to sound.

Imagine a cat

In a captain’s hat

On deck of a beautiful sailboat.

Well, Sparky had dreams

He was more than he seems

Was all that his smile did denote.

The waters were pourin’

All that glorious mornin’

Past the boat at a leisurely clip.

The breeze then a gull

Had Sparky in thrall

While purrs from his throat did slip.

It was about noon

Which came very soon

When his tummy had started to growl.

“I’m hungry!” he cried

When Hemingway’s was spied.

“Dock at their pier!” was all he’d allow.

“Hemingway’s!” the kids cried,

For they too had spied

The restaurant accessible by Bay.

Turn in, the dad

With his hunger too glad

To see what the depth reading would say.

The tide was still out

Captain Cat thought with a pout

As the boat ran aground on the sand.

“Bring me some fish!”

His tail said with a swish,

“This cat walks only on land!”

Wading to shore

More fun they did pour

On poor Dad as the children did laugh.

“We can eat here with pride

Right on the shore side

Just after our fresh water bath.”

Awaiting the tide

Captain Cat purred with some pride

And dreamed of seagulls and fish.

One day to his glory

Would be told the story

Of Captain Cat and his Hemingway wish.

© 2005, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw. All rights reserved.