OT: Pets and the 4th of July

Posted on by bryon

A reminder from the cat side of Catsignal that some of the joys of Independence Day celebrations are lost on the four-footed set. Study this list of cautions from the ASPCA and keep it holy.

One more important matter the ASPCA doesn’t mention: There’s at least one in every crowd who will attempt to do something “entertaining” yet moronically stupid to your pet, like hold it up by its ears or give it a swig of beer. Also, there are some parents who will let their children pester and persecute an animal and yet be outraged when the pet has finally had enough and protects itself. Keep a careful watch on your furry companion to prevent this sort of lunacy.

Fiction: Tree House

Posted on by bryon

“Hi, Daddy!” Five-year-old Jana ran to her father and he scooped her up in a hug.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Did you have a good time at Grandpa and Grandma’s all week?”

“Yeah! We had lots of fun.”

“Good. I’ve been very busy while you’ve been gone. Want to see what I’ve been making?”

“Okay.”

Curtis returned Jana to the floor and led her into the back yard. She saw it instantly.

“A tree house!” She ran over to the tree and clambered up the ladder.

“Tree ‘house’ is right,” Helen said quietly, joining her husband. The new structure faced the family’s home. Part of it was built into the tree, but two sturdy poles provided much of the support.

“There has to be enough room if she ever invites me to a tea party up there,” he explained.

“Oh. Well, that makes perfect sense.” She shook her head and smiled at him. “But given your influence on her, I doubt there will be many tea parties.”

* * *

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Pen to Paper: The Isolating Storm

Posted on by bryon

You’ve seen this exchange in movies and TV shows and plays and you’ve read it in books and short stories:

“Oh! Cuthbert!” Margareta exclaimed. “We need help! Quickly! Telephone the authorities!”

“Please, my dear; despite the dreadful circumstances, you must try to calm yourself. Calling the police is exactly what I was about to do.” Cuthbert picked up the handset and listened for the dial tone, but only silence greeted his eagerly waiting ear. He flicked the hook several times in rapid succession but failed utterly to establish a connection. He slowly, deliberately replaced the handset on its cradle. “The storm has knocked out the lines,” he reported grimly. “We’re completely cut off from the outside world.”

The lightning flashed and the thunder crashed as if to underscore Cuthbert’s announcement.

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Fiction: Pajamas

Posted on by bryon

Darla hung her bra on the closet doorknob. She put her arms into her cotton nightshirt, raised it above her head and let it fall down her body.

She paused briefly as she turned back the covers on her side of the bed. Stephen’s pajamas were folded neatly on his side of the bed, not quite touching his pillow. She had washed the bedding a few times since that day when he walked out, but she had been careful to replace his pajamas where he had left them.

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Pen to Paper: The Haiku Habit

Posted on by bryon

I don’t get out much. Living where I do, there’s nowhere to go, and my big jaunt is usually from the little farmstead I inhabit to one of the nearby tiny towns, a distance of 10 or 15 miles depending on which way I go.

This is why so many of my haiku are about the dogs, or coyotes, or the weather. There’s not much going on around here. Someone more keenly attuned to the natural world than I am would find enough haiku moments to fill a calendar. As it is, I have to look pretty sharp and then hope a coyote howls at a different kind of moon than I wrote about last time. Needless to say, I’m missing a lot.

But seeking the constellations of life is a valuable thing in itself; writing a good haiku after making the discovery is the cherry on top. As one looks more, it becomes a habit. With diligent practice, the constellations become more numerous, more sharply defined, more richly patterned.

Jeanne Emrich has written about getting into the haiku habit. This is in many ways a primer, but it also reminds those of us who have written haiku for years what it is we’re looking for and what to do with it once we see it. Jeanne has illustrated her essay with some excellent haiku.

Fiction: War Correspondence

Posted on by bryon

John had just finished filing his latest story about war-torn London when his English friend Maurice tapped him on the shoulder.

“This came for you while you were out,” Maurice said, handing John an envelope. “Looks like it’s from the States.”

John took a quick look at the envelope and smiled. “It’s from my girl, Mary, back in Evanston. Just the little pick-me-up I needed today. Nothing like a letter from home to take your mind completely off the war.”

He opened the envelope and removed the letter. It was on a single piece of stationery.

“Dear John,” it began. “I know this will come as a surprise and will be hard for you to understand.”

John’s mouth fell open as he read the few lines. By the time he finished, there was a noise like sirens in his ears. He got up from his desk and stumbled toward the door.

It was pitch black outside. He fumbled in his jacket for a cigarette and his lighter. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, the tiny flame all the light in John’s world. He stared at it for half a minute after lighting his smoke, and then deliberately closed the case.

The sirens kept blowing in his mind, and to them was added a dull roar like a hundred airplanes. How could Mary dump him like that? And for Todd?

John drew on his cigarette and passed a hand over his forehead. He felt ill. The new whistling sounds in his brain weren’t helping matters.

Mary’s letter had hit him like a ton of bricks. Unnoticed by the sorrowful young man, so did the building he stood next to when the bomb hit it.

There really was nothing like a letter from home to take a person’s mind completely off the war.