Cat Tales

I am not old. I am, however, getting a bit older. As I look back over my life, I have piles and piles of old columns ( I figure 52 weeks in a year and about 30 years equals 1560 columns not to mention the many  Cat Tales which came in quite a bit later).I  know you readers haven’t saved them like I have, so when I’m gone there will be no remembrance of Nurse Judy or the cats. This bothers me. It’s okay to forget old frumpy Judy, but that irascible alter ego of mine and those conniving cats should not end with my demise. The only thing I can think to do is go over the columns, pick out those I think are the best and publish them in a book. Then after I am gone there will still be a bit of these jolly characters left to cheer you up.
Having said all that, I am now busily reading through old columns. I’m glad I’m not old yet because it is a very time consuming task. I may not be able to ever finish it. Anyhow I have found things in those columns that I had forgotten. Do you remember Beebe had an alter ego himself, called Bobo. I had completely forgotten this. I’m sure Beebe hasn’t just as I can’t forget that annoying alter ego of mine, Nurse Judy, who infiltrates every aspect of my life.
Having digressed I need to get back on point. After reading an old column, it either goes in a possible book file or a rejected file.
Accepted are on the table by my chair. Rejected are on the cocktail table. After my first night’s work, I go to bed feeling good about the small amount I have accomplished. I should not have congratulated myself. This morning, I woke up to find both piles strewn across the living room floor. If that isn’t bad enough, some have been clawed, chewed and slobbered on so badly they are unreadable. It’s good that I’m not old yet as I would have given up today.
Since I’m not completely over the hill yet, I decide to persevere. If I hadn’t read these old columns, I would now wake up bad Beebe, show him the mess, and ban him to the tea room to think about his bad behavior. Now that I’ve remembered Bobo, I’m positive he was the destructive force here-not my beloved Beebe. I try to communicate this to my sweet cat, but he bats at the table and stalks away. After all these years of living with Nurse Judy, I can completely empathize with him.
I go after him to tell him he needs to try and talk some sense into Bobo. What I find is Bobo scratching on the back of my good velvet chair.  I’m glad I’m not old because I’m able to catch up with him and squirt him with the squirt gun.
I continue searching for Beebe. I can’t find him, so I try to clean up the living room floor and then make the bed. Beebe immediately appears and stretches out on the bed. I pet him and try to remove him, but he ducks under the covers whirling and twirling and making a huge mess. Oh no, I’ve mistaken Beebe for Bobo again. I should have known that all the naughty episodes that I’ve punished Beebe for in the past were probably all done by Bobo.
I feel ashamed for treating Beebe unfairly. When I find him, I will tell him. In the meantime, I’m glad I’m not old yet because I would never be able to handle all this if I was.
I pull Bobo out from under the mess on the bed. I carry him to the sunroom and tell him to think about all the times he’s gotten Beebe in trouble. I shake my finger at him, and he bites it. I cannot put up with this. I call on Nurse Judy, my own terrible alter ego, because she says she can communicate with cats. “You tell him I will not put up with this,” I tell her.
Nurse Judy talks to the cat.
“He says you are too old to handle him, and you will never get that book published. You need to realize that starting a big project like that is crazy at your age.”
“I am not too old,” I yell. “I’ll know when I’m too old to start new projects. “I am strong. I am defiant. I stand there proud of my strength when faced with adversity. Suddenly I’m very tired. If 88 isn’t old, when is old?”  I wonder.
I won’t give in. I will tame that Bobo, outwit Nurse Judy and work on my new project. The heck with numbers.
More later,