I’ll be on Top!

Posted on June 18, 2006

By Trudy A. Martinez

Half asleep my eyes open.  A rolling motion startles and awakes me.  Looking at the clock, I note the time: 4:35 A. M. (Or there about; I always set it ahead of the actual time). The room is swaying, rolling.   My imagination runs wild, thinking, imagining, wondering if the second floor will fall upon the first.  A voice inside me rings out: “Get up!  Get in a door way!”

Common sense tells me, “Stay where you are.”  I know my knees are weak and I will fall before I make it to a doorway even if I try.  If this is the big one, prayers are my only avenue of escape.  I stay put.  An eternity seems to pass.   When in actuality, only a few seconds go by.

I look around, stopping when Kit’s eyes meet mine.  Her expression says, “Why are you shaking the bed?”  Usually in the morning when I want to sleep, she wakes me.  Now this little cat is thinks, I am the perpetrator.

“I am not doing it.”  I assure her in a calming tone.

The rolling motion continues, building momentum.  My inner voice regurgitates and reasons: “You’re better off where you are.”

I remember experiencing such a long rolling earthquake once before.  Then in a compromising position, I am balancing myself (stark naked) on the edge of my whirlpool spa in a glass house, a glass enclosed patio.  I let another convince me if I go in naked no one will see me; she assures me struggling with a wet bathing suit each time I go in is not only unnecessary but also ridiculous.

Of course, who knew an earthquake would hit just at the moment I straddle the edge of the whirlpool, naked, with one leg in and one leg out.  I question my decision, after the fact, when the earthquake hit as I balance myself on the edge of the spa.  My imagination runs wild. I see myself at the bottom of the pool of water naked. Dead.  “How embarrassing to be found in such a state,” I think.

Now here I am again, telling myself, “You’re better off where you are.”  Reasoning:  If the roof falls, the headboard and the footboard will stop it.  If you go down stairs, the second story will fall on you–you’ll be crushed, mashed, trapped on bottom.  If you stay where you are, you’ll be on top of the rubble, not on bottom.  Besides, there is a soft mattress under you, a blanket over you, and it’s warm.  What would it be like if you move?  “Stay where you are–stay, stay.”

The movement recedes and then, the quake stops almost as abruptly as it began.  Only 45 seconds elapses but yet, an eternity seems to pass, nothing fell, not even me.

Kit stands, stretches, and then lies back down, digs her head into the soft comforter before she again closes her eyes.  It didn’t even faze her.  How can she go back to sleep?  Wasn’t the earthquake a wake-up call from Heaven?  It wasn’t me as she thought.

I shake the bed, unable to resist the temptation to show her the difference.  One eye opens, and then quickly closing once she sees it is only me.

 

image     image

Next time. Next time, we may not be as fortunate.

Advertisements

No Where to Run

By Trudy A. Martinez

Reassuringly, little voices whispered dramatically,  “It’s okay, Kit, we’re not going to hurt you.”

Kit was asleep when the two surrounded her with the intent of making friends.  Normally, she ran at the sight of them.  Now she was unknowingly cornered.

When the words, “It’s Okay — we’re not going to hurt you.” were repeated in unison.  Kit’s eyes opened.  Obviously, she was not sure what to make of them:  Her ears moved from their normal stance, when their hands reached out for her, to a stressed slicked back position.

They petted her, gently.  Kit’s ears remained down.  “It’s okay,”  they reassured her.  Their words did nothing to change her countenance.  She was stiff and looking for a way to run.

Perhaps she recalled the day before, being cornered and her tail pulled.  The perpetrator of that incident was now gently running her hand from the top of Kit’s head slowly over her thick winter fur to the tip of her tail without tugging.  The question now was:  Was Kit going to relax and take advantage of this freely given affection?

The children continued to assure her that they meant well with each movement of their hands over her body.  It was a slow process, a persuasive process, a winning process.  Kit’s ears relaxed, relinquishing their stress.

Smiling the children exclaimed, “She likes me!  She’s purring,” They added with excitement.  “She’s pur-r-ring.”

Technorati tags: ,
  • Display picture for litlev6  litlev6Hello and thanks for stopping by.. 🙂  I enjoyed your blog and your wit.  I will be back..have a wonderful week Peace

Abandoned and Home Alone

By Trudy A. Martinez

Why does she leave me here alone?  When she leaves, she’s gone for days at a time.  I’m left alone, locked in, feeling sorry for myself.  I mope around and sleep more than I should.  But what is someone to do when your left alone for days on end.  I can’t leave; I can’t reach the door knob; I can’t open it.  I can only sit and look out the window at everyone outside living life to the fullest. 

 I guess you might say, I’m depressed.  How lonely I get.  I tend to get in mischief when I am left alone.  I think I do it just to get back at her for going off.  After all, turn around is fair play.  Isn’t it?  It’s fun to do things you’re not suppose to do.  I remember once, when I was feeling down and a little possessive too, I went upstairs to sit and look out the window at everyone playing on the green grass. 

But when I got to my favorite chair, I found it occupied with a stack of papers.  “That’s my chair!” I exclaimed.  I quickly threw all the papers on the floor.  But I didn’t stop there.  I was still upset because she left me again.  So, I tore the papers into little bits; I shredded them!  I even made sure if she were able to glue them back together she would not be able to read them because I poked them full of holes.  The ink ran on some of the pieces because I put them in my mouth and got them wet. 

Oh was she mad when she saw what I did.  I sure got her attention.  She yelled, “My papers!”

Well, they were her papers and she can have them now.  I had my fun.  I’ll bet she’ll think twice before she puts anything on my chair again.  She was almost in tears; she stood and glared at me; she didn’t even blink.  “Hasn’t she learned by now I can out stare her?” I thought.  It was as if she were getting ready to attack me.  I wasn’t going to back down–I stared back. 

When she reached for me and grabbed me by the back of my neck, I wasn’t scared.  I didn’t yell out; I didn’t fight back.  I did get my motor running though–you know–I started purring.  That always gets her to smile again.  Then, she started petting me.  She loves me no matter how mischievous I am or what I’ve been into.  I love her too.  But I hate it when she leaves me here alone.

 Technorati tags: ,

Comments
  • GramaTrudy  Writing this journal entry helped me to work out the pain I was feeling.  It is a lonely pain.  My cat, Kit, went outside (in my backyard) and never came back.  I’ve been teary eyed ever since.  I haven’t been able to concentrate.  I’ve been too sad.  Sometimes my only  contact with anyone is with my cat.  I call her Kit because even though she is full-grown, she is small like a kitten.  I decided to write as if I were her because in a way the tables are turned.  I usually leave her for a few days by herself — now here I am grieving because she has left me here alone.  The process of writing as if I was her made me feel somewhat better.  But there is still an empty place inside me that will never be filled if she doesn’t come back.  I love her as if she were my child.  How could I be so insensitive?  How could I have left her here alone?