Snowbird Gothic Stories 10 - "Small Cold Things"
Today's story backstory, "Small Cold Things", originally appeared at Angel McCoy's site Wily Writers, where I still occasionally do a turn as guest editor. Stop by this month and you can see my selections for the Cryptofiction issue, though if you want to read the story behind the one cryptofiction piece in Snowbird Gothic, you're going to have a wait a while. Sasquatches come to those who wait, after all.
Also, I'm pleased to note that hardcopy versions of Snowbird Gothic are now available from amazon.com. So if you're been waiting to pick it up because you wanted that fresh new book smell, you now have your chance. But I digress...
My wife and I are cat people. For most of our marriage we were a three-cat household - her girls Tika and Storm, and my Giant Evil Cat of Evil, Ember. Ember passed away last year, and we still miss him. He was 17 when he passed away. Tika's now 18, and Storm is a relative spring chicken at 14 or so. Which is a roundabout way of saying that we had 3 elderly cats, set in their ways, living in one house. All three were set in their ways, and there was, shall we say, some friction, which the cats resolved in the way cats usually do: by making the humans clean up after them. Which we did, if not always entirely cheerfully, because love not only is blind, it also frequently holds its nose. (Note: To be fair, our problems of this sort started before Ember moved back in with us from my parents'; neighborhood toms had apparently availed themselves of our cat door and set about claiming our living room in the name of Mars.)
All of which is a nice way of saying that we love our cats dearly, even though under a black light the living room carpet looked like a Santana album cover. (Note: We no longer have carpet in the living room).
Now, I like to think we have understood this is part of the package deal with cats, and have cleaned as necessary with good cheer. You agree to make a pet part of your life, after all, that's a responsibility, not a convenience. And I think that both Melinda and I would agree that we very happy to have had our cats for all these years.
But I can also see how for someone else, this sort of thing might not be accepted as part of the deal, how it could be used by one partner to bludgeon the other in a million different ways. And I can see how, in a world with magic, that could go horribly, horribly wrong.
The ending of this one is something I always had trouble with. I think, ultimately, I like cats too much, and I tried to be a little too nice to my protagonist, vis-a-vis the solution to her "cat problem". Of course, trying to be nice doesn't always work out the way one wants it to.
Also, I'm pleased to note that hardcopy versions of Snowbird Gothic are now available from amazon.com. So if you're been waiting to pick it up because you wanted that fresh new book smell, you now have your chance. But I digress...
My wife and I are cat people. For most of our marriage we were a three-cat household - her girls Tika and Storm, and my Giant Evil Cat of Evil, Ember. Ember passed away last year, and we still miss him. He was 17 when he passed away. Tika's now 18, and Storm is a relative spring chicken at 14 or so. Which is a roundabout way of saying that we had 3 elderly cats, set in their ways, living in one house. All three were set in their ways, and there was, shall we say, some friction, which the cats resolved in the way cats usually do: by making the humans clean up after them. Which we did, if not always entirely cheerfully, because love not only is blind, it also frequently holds its nose. (Note: To be fair, our problems of this sort started before Ember moved back in with us from my parents'; neighborhood toms had apparently availed themselves of our cat door and set about claiming our living room in the name of Mars.)
All of which is a nice way of saying that we love our cats dearly, even though under a black light the living room carpet looked like a Santana album cover. (Note: We no longer have carpet in the living room).
Now, I like to think we have understood this is part of the package deal with cats, and have cleaned as necessary with good cheer. You agree to make a pet part of your life, after all, that's a responsibility, not a convenience. And I think that both Melinda and I would agree that we very happy to have had our cats for all these years.
But I can also see how for someone else, this sort of thing might not be accepted as part of the deal, how it could be used by one partner to bludgeon the other in a million different ways. And I can see how, in a world with magic, that could go horribly, horribly wrong.
The ending of this one is something I always had trouble with. I think, ultimately, I like cats too much, and I tried to be a little too nice to my protagonist, vis-a-vis the solution to her "cat problem". Of course, trying to be nice doesn't always work out the way one wants it to.