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|Pablo Died Today (standard:non fiction, 2531 words) [1/2] show all parts|
|Author: casio1933||Updated: May 03 2008||Views/Reads: 1813/1127||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Pablo was my cat. He lived almost twenty years. Since I sometimes writing in the first person, I am letting Pab be my spokesperson (cat). I hope you enjoy his stories. All feedback is appreciated.|
Pablo Died Today A Collection of Short Stories and Personal Essays Pablo died today (August 3, 1987) ? he had been in a coma for three days. He was crying last Friday night and I held him in my lap from about midnight until after two A.M. When he went to “sleep.” Three weeks ago two Norwegian elk hounds from next door jumped on him. They roughed him up some ? he left one of his fangs (the first he had ever lost in almost twenty years) in one of the attackers. My neighbor's eighteen-year-old son was a little upset, because "your cat beat up on my dogs." I got to thinking about the changes that had taken place in my life and my wife's during the twenty years we have known, (no one could ever own the fierce independence that was), Pablo. I decided to write it down from Pablo's viewpoint. Many individuals who have lived distinguished lives and/or have lived an unusually long time have their autobiographies "ghost written." Pablo may not, by some standards, have lived a very distinguished life. However, no one can argue that twenty years of active life for a cat is not unusual. Kay and I have known Pablo since he was a kitten in September of 1967. I believe I am singularly well qualified to tell his story. PART I INDIAN TRAIL, NORTH CAROLINA ? 1967/68 I was born one of four kittens on Davidson Drive in Indian Trail, North Carolina sometime in early September 1967. My mother was a CFA registered Siamese ? my father was "a traveling man." My first recollections include the time I lived with Charlie. Charlie lived next door to the house I was born in and I had been given to him as a "companion." Charlie was a good sort. Though into the bottle pretty heavy, he never mistreated me. Charlie lived alone when I went to live with him and, for the most part, he saw that I had enough to eat. Sometimes when the weather was cold Charlie would forget to let me in the house at night. It was one of those nights ? I had hollered for an hour; Charlie was drunk. Looking for a warm place to sleep, I found one. I climbed up inside the engine compartment of Charlie's new Chevrolet, curled up and dozed off. The next thing I knew Charlie had started his car to go to work. All the noise scared the piss out of me. I was afraid to move, I hollered, but no one could hear above the roar of the engine. I wasn't hurt and I figured if I just sat tight, sooner or later, things would quiet down and I could get out. Click the button below to send the text OPTION 3 - email your story to the webmaster. As a last alternative, you can alThings did quiet down, but only after the twelve-mile trip into Charlotte (Charlie owned a photography studio in Charlotte). By the time we got to Charlie's studio and he had parked I was really howling ? Charlie heard me and took me out of the engine compartment. As I said earlier, I had pissed all over the engine and myself as well. The engine had gotten pretty hot on the drive into town and, while the smell did not bother me too much, Charlie seemed not to want me inside his studio. He put me inside the car on the back seat, but not before I bit and scratched hell out of him. He should have brought me into the house the night before. At the time I was only about three months old and it seemed like I was hungry all the time. Charlie knew this and brought food and water out to the car two or three times during the day. This was the best deal I'd had since Mama's tit. On the way home that evening I decided to "camp?out" in the car for a while. Charlie tried to coax me out of the car when we got home, but I hung tight and climbed up under the dashboard. I really didn't mean to screw up his radio, cigarette lighter and instrument lights. As it turned out the spot under the dash was pretty comfortable. That night and I decided to stay there while I was "camping out." Charlie Click here to read the rest of this story (163 more lines)
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