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Anectdotes and Short Stories Not in Print
I hope viewers will enjoy these stories.
Your comments are welcome.
Please Note that previously posted stories have been removed because they are included in my book Anecdotes and Stories, Old and New, recently puiblished by Outskirts Press.
Enjoy reading these stories. Please send your comments.
I have written two books, currently unpublished but copyrighted. The World and Stories My Grandpa Told. I am working on Sir Thomas Cat and Me, a group of cat stories.
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Sir Thomas Cat and Me at the Larkspur Landing Ferry Slip
Sir Thomas Cat and I had little to do. We sat on a bench and watched the passengers debarking from the Ferry from San Francisco. Although Sir Thomas understands English, he does not speak it. So we conversed in Cat in which I am fluent despite not having a tail to swish about.
Sir Thomas sneered, “You’d think they’d have something better to do than cross the bay on that slow ferry.”
“It beats driving and saves lots of time,” I said.
“What do they do with the time they save?” he asked, “None of them look very happy,” he continued.
“You’re right,” I said, “they must be coming home from the rat race at work in San Francisco, which is why they look so glum.”
“Oh never use those words around me. Whether they race or just hang out rats are fearsome to us cats. People expect us to chase and do battle with them. But the big ones are vicious and dangerous for us to tangle with them.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that cats would fear rats. I teased him, “Perhaps you should confine your efforts to little mice.”
He arched his back and swished his tail. Without us your houses would be infested and filled with their droppings,” he sneered.
“You’re right,” I said.
It didn’t mollify him.
“Let’ go home and have some dinner,” I suggested.
“Good idea.” Sir Tomas Cat said, “But don’t expect me to sit on your lap and purr after dinner while you smoke that smelly pipe of yours. I am still offended by your unnecessary nastiness.”
We returned home. I sat reading and smoking my pipe after dinner. Sir Thomas lay on his rug sulking.
A Weird Dream
For some reason my wife who passed some years ago is always present in my dreams as the vigorous, intelligent person I loved from our first kiss when we were sixteen through the years of our marriage until she suffered from vascular dementia in the last six years of our eighty-nine together.
In last night’s weird dream we were in a private, propeller-driven plane being flown by An Arab friend. Our friend lived near us and we had had many political discussions about the situation between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Our friend’s wife was collecting funds to aid the Palestinian cause. Neither of us was forthcoming.
We said almost as one voice, “What a mess.”
There was no disagreement from our fellow passengers. Finally it came time to land. Our pilot chose a grassy meadow and we descended. But we did not know how to find our way home.
Nature called and I awoke, wondering why we couldn’t find our way home in my dream.