What I wanted to write

After yesterday’s post, I solemnly swore that I would take step one towards eliminating my internal struggles with writing. I remembered an idea I heard once to keep a list of writing topics nearby. That way, I could have a handy list of ideas and get to writing. No excuses!

I took out my book of square lined paper, wrote ‘Writing Topics:’ with an underline, and put down the first thing to do: I wanted to write about what I will write about in this blog. That was properly serious enough to get back into the habit of daily writing, whether or not anyone reads it.

My black-and-white, mask-and-mantle cat Norman, however, had other ideas.

I went downstairs to visit my mother and help make phone calls for her. I asked her where he was because I had not seen Norman in a while. She said she remembered him going upstairs. So did I. I walked around and I called for him in my apartment but heard nothing. In the first floor foyer, I could hear him crying. It sounded like he was in the closet behind the foyer or in the basement ceiling. I retrieved a bag of Whiskies tuna treats from my bedroom dresser drawer. I walked around my apartment, the entire first floor, and the basement, shaking the bag and calling for Norman. I checked closets, opened closed bedroom doors, and stood under open basement ceilings. He answered a few times but did not come.

If you know Norman, then you know his hiding from you is not normal. Finally, my mother decides to look underneath the recliner chair because she was sitting in it earlier. Norman was not under the chair. Nope! Instead he was here:

Image

Normie was inside the back of the recliner chair. Although we looked, we could not find an entrance to the back from underneath. The back flap, seen here were Normie is sticking his nose out, was velcroed inside the back. Off came the velcro and out came Normie. I gave him some treats.

My mom said, “You know, Norman’s probably going to think that if he gets stuck in the chair, you’ll rescue him and give him treats.” After the way my heart pounded and my stomach churned when I could not find him, I think I am pretty much OK with that.

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