GAME ENTRY 3 // "THE ELECTION" // NOV 5 - 11, 2007

[cougar_ridge_v2]

Election Week has arrived, and it’s time to see who'll be running Cougar Ridge as the next Mayor - and who'll be keeping peace as the next Sheriff.  Josh Barty may have no challengers in his role, but with his mind on murder and kidnapping everything could still unravel. So far nothing has came from the investigation into the abduction of Cole

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[lydia_lavie]

The restaurant was surprisingly good. Who knew foreigners could cook that well? When I was serving as a WAC teletype operator in France, where I met my Lawrence, the food was horrible!

Something else happened at the restaurant, and I'm not sure what. Even though I'm certain she's a heathen of some sort, I felt a sort of kinship with Mrs. Chen - some kind of cyclic connection. It's like she helped lift me out of the blue funk I've been in lately.

I need to pray for guidance. I need strong prayers.

All of my cats come from the shelter. All of them are older cats and "special needs" cats. Nobody wants them, the poor dears - they all want cute little kittens. But my cats were kittens, once, too, and they need just as much love!

Max is my oldest cat right now. He's missing an ear and an eye, and he has a metal rod in one leg. He was pretty badly mauled when he was admitted to the shelter, so he's not a very pretty boy (the fur on that side of his head never has grown back properly), and they estimate he was about ten years old when I adopted him. For the last six years, he has had good food, a warm home, and lots of love, and he's just as cuddly as a kitten would have been. I'm happy to have been able to give him that and save him from being put down when they needed to make room at the shelter.

He knows something is different today, the poor, sweet thing. I've given him milk, and salmon, and stew meat, and I've spent most of the day petting him and talking to him.

Now we're in the basement. I carefully undress and put on my habit and my various pieces of ceremonial jewelry. The oil and incense are burning, and the candles are lit. Max is watching me through half-closed eyes, twitching the tip of his tail, and I'm sure he knows what I'm doing.

"Lord," I say, "who has fought the Great Adversary for our right to choose, as you opposed the Great Lie in the garden, and as you urged Job to make his choice without bowing to the tyranny of the Great Adversary, I ask you of my own free will to send me strength and guidance in my time of doubt. I am afraid, because I suspect this town is approaching one of its troubled times, and I feel weak. I want to be strong, so that I can give my strength to this town that is my home, and protect the good people who live here. I feel that Mrs. Chen, who has chosen a heathen life but is, I am certain, a good and strong person anyway, makes me think that she has strength such as I once had, and I ask that you restore my strength to me, that I may stand beside her to protect the children, my boarders, and the other people of this town who have done nothing to deserve the troubles I that have begun. I am old and tired, but I will do what I must. In your name, for your glory, and of my own free will."

Then I do what I must. I'm rubbing his ears, and he's purring, and I make it fast, so that he doesn't suffer, but I feel like the knife is in my heart, and there's a lump in my throat, and I'm crying and I need a handkerchief. But what's a sacrifice if it doesn't hurt to give it up?

I wrap Max in my favorite wool sweater and place him in the little freezer of the minifridge. In the spring, I'll have Lyndon dig a hole in the back yard, and I'll plant another rosebush in the row by the patio.

I dress, go back upstairs, and take the blackberry brandy out of the buffet. Oh, how I loved Max!