The True Story of Morris the Cat

A True Story of Morris the Cat

Eons ago, in the part of the Garden of Eden that was ruled by Magic, there lived an ogre-cat by the name of Morris. To anyone looking at him, Morris appeared as an orange cat – much like the Morris of cat food fame. However, Morris was no ordinary cat. No, he was a dragon cat whose wings and fire were hidden beneath his fur. Actually, you see, his fur was really gray, but because of all the internal fire, it appeared orange. His expected life-span was 9 squared lives, but each lifetime brought another such mathematical equation; thus it appeared he would live throughout eternity.
Outward appearances showed Morris to be an extremely large, handsome dragon-cat with bright orange fur accented by darker orange stripes. His thick fur glistened in the light of the Garden, and when he moved, each muscle rippled with ease and beauty. His eyes were golden yellow. He knew he was one handsome cat, and played dangerously with all the other creatures in the garden, especially the female cats.
If ever there was a Top Cat, Morris fit the bill. He was mighty and strong and everyone in the Garden wanted to be on his good side. He ruled the roost with iron paws and fire breath.
One day, Morris was sitting on his throne when a lovely little purple kitten strolled up to him. She was too naïve to recognize that when Morris was on his throne, NO ONE was to disturb him. As the story goes, this little tyke named Matilda, stared at him. That made Morris furious, so he removed himself from the throne and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and made her bow down to him. She was an ornery one and refused, in spite of his yowling and howling at her. Due to her incessant wiggling, he dropped her and she scampered immediately under the closest drapery.
That made Morris extremely angry and he said he would get back at her.
Matilda ran away and for the next six months hid out of sight from Morris or anyone at his castle. When Morris next saw Matilda, he could hardly believe his eyes. She had grown into a magnificent young female pussy and he knew he had to have her as one of his harem. Her purple fur was smooth and silky, her deep lavender eyes were fringed with the longest dark purple lashes he had ever seen, and her tail . . . well, her tail was fluff extraordinaire. He approached her smoothly, whispering sweet nothings, just loudly enough so she would be interested, and he swished his long long tail at her in a very seductive manner.
As soon as Matilida was aware of Morris, she knew he was trouble, and she remembered how cruelly he had treated her. She scooted away from him as quickly as she could.
“I must meet this pussy,” Morris exclaimed. “I must have her.” He did not recognize that this lovely purple female was the very same kitten who had enraged him just six months prior.
Days went by and there was no sign of Matilda, causing Morris enormous frustration. As a result, his behavior was nastier than usual. As he walked about his castle and its beautiful grounds, he thought he saw a flash of lavender running under one of the ferns. He approached the beautiful green plant where he thought she had hidden, and in his most seductive meowing, called to her. “Oh Lovely Puss, I’d love to meet you.”
Matilda freaked. What could she do? She knew Morris had great powers with his extreme athletic build and his smooth meowing. How could she outrun the famous dragon-cat Morris? Clearly, she couldn’t!
But unbeknowst to Morris, Matilda was also a dragon cat. Her wings beneath her fur began to twitch and enlarge, finally folding gently on her back. Opening her virginal wings, she heard deep in her mind, “Fly away”. She flapped her new wings as silently as she could, all the while listening to Morris quietly approaching her. Surprisingly, she lifted several feet above the ground and zoomed forward.

He looked up at her, swishing his tail in anger and squawked, “This is not the end, Miss Pussy. I will have you as one of my own.”
After Morris had sauntered off, Matilda landed not far from her home. She didn’t know what to do. And who should appear but her fairy god mother cat, Myrtle, who sarcastically suggested she dye her fur green so Morris wouldn’t recognize her.
Matilda, instead of recognizing the sarcasm for what it was exclaimed, “Oh! What a wonderful idea. Will you do it for me?”
Myrtle had no choice then but to set out to find some green dye. Soon Matilda was sporting a dark green coat. Myrtle then suggested, “How about some contact lenses so we change the color of your eyes.”
“Brilliant,” agreed Matilda.
“Now you need a new name so Morris can’t recognize that either. How does Esmeralda sound?
“Oh yes,” Esmeralda purred. “I love that name.”
Soon Esmeralda was checking out how it felt to be a kitty with a different identity. She wandered around the greenery, almost blending in and seeking out Morris to see if her new identity was safe. She was ready to give up, when she sniffed the approaching culprit.
Morris engaged in his usual catting and sauntered up to this new delightful discovery, believing she was new to the Garden and thus, easy prey.
“Hello Ms. Kitty, and how are you on this lovely day?” he purred in his most enticing manner.
Esmeralda glared at him. “What’s it to ya? Leave me alone.” She turned around quickly, puffed up her fur and stomped into the ferns.
No female cat other than Matilda had ever turned and left Morris unless he gave the order to leave – and he certainly had not given it to her.
“What is this Garden coming to?” He thought. “Now two young pussies running from me? Hmmm . . . there’s something familiar about this green puss, even though I don’t know who she is.”
Morris howled and stomped his front paws, “You’d better get your furry butt back here this instant!” He did a double-take realizing that something was unusual. When she puffed up her fur, he noticed that under the green was purple. “How could that be?” he mused. “This kitty had green eyes, not purple . . . I must be missing something.”
Matilda flicked her tail at him, and continued to theatrically lumber away, not realizing that some of her purple fur was visible. You see, Myrtle, her cat fairy god mother had no experience using fur dyes, so she probably didn’t do a really swell job.
Morris stood there, shocked, yet enchanted by her nerve, and her dismissal; aware he had been duped. “I must have that pussy!” he reiterated to no one but himself. But, he then sat down, thwarted. Well, when in doubt, his future cat brain screamed, remember Paul Gallico’s poem. So he did. He washed. First he washed his back, then his toes, and finally, his face. But not a single idea came to him about how to win over miss haughty puss who, he realized was like no other pussy he had encountered. He was at a loss for winning her affections.
As narrator, I must interrupt this fascinating story as Morris’ 1,097th reincarnation – whose name is Yoda -has joined me at my desk. As usual, he seeks my full attention. He sticks his head under my fingers, disrupting my flow at this keyboard as I try to tell you this story. I try to ignore him, but he persists.
Finally, after many well-placed strokes on his furry body, he lies down for a nap, inches from my hands. I’m thinking like the song says, “It’s still the same old story – a fight for love and glory”. . . you know. And for the moment, I have triumphed. Ah, he’s really settled in for his mid-afternoon nap. Now I can continue with my tale, his tale, our tale.
The following day, Morris devised a plan to woo Miss High-and-Mighty puss. He would lure her into the Garden with the smell of catnip, then sing to her. How could any cat resist his songs! With all four of his paws, he began to shred a huge catnip plant that grew near his castle. The more he shredded, the stronger grew the fragrance from the leaves. Soon, he had twenty-five cats trying to roll, dive and cavort in the garden. “Oh, no! What have I done?” he yowled. “How will I get rid of all these cats!?” That question proved to be unimportant as all twenty-five cats fell asleep before he could challenge his brain too much.
Poor Morris. He sat down in defeat. His plan had failed miserably, so he did what any self-respecting cat would do – once again, he began to wash, partly to cover his embarrassment and partly because his paws were dirty from shredding the catnip. This time, he did a thorough job of all his fur, including his big tail. If his continued failure to lure Miss Priss continued, he would be the cleanest creature in the Garden.
The next day dawned bright and Morris was once again, filled with hope in capturing his little challenge. “I will make a basket of reeds, get some catnip leaves, cover it, and seek that kitty where she lives, but first I must find out where that is.” Morris thought he was smart, but because he had so many other cats waiting on his every need, he really didn’t have a lot of common sense. It was only when he realized he didn’t know where she lived that he had to casually inquire of one of his servant cats the address of his pussy-love – be it Matilda or Esmeralda.
He finally found his way to her residence, but she was ready for him in her Esmeralda greens! “Morris, you are so predictable. Here you are, like the wolf in the Big Bad Wolf carrying your basket of goodies. Surely your bad-ass self is more creative than that!”
She continued, “I will not be part of your harem. I’m a good pussy and don’t indulge in such disgusting orgies.”
Morris, not to be put off, began to sing a song he remembered, “Oh beautiful pussy, oh Pussy my love, what a beautiful pussy you are, you are, what a beautiful pussy you are,” he caterwauled loudly, gazing into Matilda’s contact-covered green eyes.
Matilda thought Morris’ singing was so bad that she began to laugh, then howl. Shortly, one of her green contact lenses fell out and that sobered her quickly. With one paw, she covered her eye and tried to gain control of her giggles. It didn’t work, and plop, the other lens fell out too.
Morris already knew he had been duped, but he ignored what had occurred. He continued to sing.
“Oh, you clever little girl kitty. If I promise you are the only one, will you come with me and be my pussy throughout the ages?”
“No!”
“How can I convince you?”
“If you can live for all your remaining 9 lives times infinity with only one pussy, then I will be with you. Sometimes I’ll be a cat, sometimes, a dog, sometimes a person. Can you do it?”
Morris smiled seductively, “Why of course I can.”
Matilda didn’t believe a word of it, but because he rid his palace of the harem, she went willingly with him. Their kittens were quite unique.
For eons after Morris made his untrue promise, he chased and was chased by Matilda throughout various times, ages and places, always apologizing for his lies. She sometimes allowed him immunity, and other times, depending on what creature’s body she had inhabited, became his enemy. When she was a dog, she often made his life miserable, but when she was a human was the worst for Morris, because that was when she was in complete charge. She even had the audacity to neuter him. That is this lifetime. He can complain, purr, sing, rub all he wants, but I, the narrator, am in charge of everything. He still attempts to woo me, even in our different forms, but I laugh. Morris aka Yoda, is not happy.
Whoops. Please excuse this interruption again. Apparently, Yoda does not like what I am writing. He knocked my phone, a book and a pair of glasses off my desk, hissed at me, glared at me with disdain, and finally fell asleep.

Romance Novels – Adult Fairy Tales

Romance Novels – Grown-up Fairy Tales
It occurred to me that women (especially women!) read romance novels like they read childhood fairytales. Dreamers of bigger, better, more exciting, more stimulating, more wealth, more power, better lover, more control of one’s life – or, for a change, letting someone else take control of life and definitely more handsome heroes/heroines!
All of us have had childhood fantasies. Did you dream of being married, happily ever after? How about dreaming of being some famous movie star, or a singer, or dancer or someone famous? Or were your dreams about magical places with magical creatures? Some dream of being a great philanthropist, or maybe even a famous saint! Do you remember your childhood and/or adult daydreams, fantasies, desires, wishes and hopes?
I believe the world loves romance novels because they are HAPPILY EVER AFTER, and they are the ultimate fantasy! They are fairy tales for grown-ups! Living in this world often filled with pain, destruction, death, illness and despair (at times) the romance novel allows us to relish and delight in our fantasy of happily ever after with super-heroes and heroines. Don’t we all want and desire that? I know I do. That’s why I write them and that’s why I read them.
Of course, the characters have to be somewhat realistic and somewhat mature or they lose my interest quite quickly! That’s a really important aspect for me. There must be some degree of realism and a sufficient emotional maturity to recognize that when the characters aren’t actually acting in a mature fashion, they get how terrified they are and attempt to change their reactions and behaviors.
I love romance novels, and I love the happy endings. I loved and still love fairy tales. There is enough “reality” out there for me to live without having to read about the dark side all the time.
But if you want the combination of the dark with the romance, the wonderful shape-shifters and part human/part other race take the adult fairy tale to new heights of imagination (Christine Feehan’s books are great!) There we have violence, the heroes that are not understood or made to be heartless and the reconciliation of humans or mixed races coming together for good and their love. How much better does it get???

Sexy Love Scenes and Why I Write Them Part 2

Fantasy
We all have some sort of fantasy life. Some of these fantasies are positive and life sustaining, creative and healthy while other types, not so much. For example we’ve all told ourselves stories that are negative and self-demeaning even though they are filled with quite creative lies. How many times we tell ourselves “our negative stories” depends on how bored we get and what we decide to do about the plots with all their curves and twists. But, getting back to sex – I just wanted to show you how we all fantasize – no matter what the story or situation.
Sexual fantasies are fun – I encourage them. Of course if you’re extremely religious, you may think I am an evil person, but you probably wouldn’t have been reading this blog. If you are, well your story of me being evil is one of your fantasies, and it doesn’t compute with my reality.
Sex sells because it allows the reader to indulge in sexual fantasies with fabulous magic people who all look like Gods or Goddesses, who are usually quite wealthy, powerful and important, though they may have other humane characteristics we all value and want also – kindness, great lover, smart, etc. etc. etc. But again, there is always that new and exciting LOVE.
In these fantasies, we all get to imagine what our supposed perfect partner and life would be like, and how great a lover we’ve been blessed with! And the hero is always a fantastic lover! And what woman – or man – wouldn’t want that?! For men of course, we have magazines like Playboy to stimulate the fantasy mind. For women, it’s mostly romance novels with their plotted sexual tension.
Sexual tension – that thing all romance novels demand, is what we used to experience way back when we weren’t allowed, through some sort of moral stance to be sexual – or didn’t recognize the sexual energy present.
Sexual energy in romance novels is so blatant it is like coating folks with neon paint and chocolate. But of course, the characters don’t recognize it. Or if they do, they simply deny it or ignore it. All other characters in the novel recognize it and have to suffer through the main character’s ignorance/denial. Like in real life, sexual energy is quite blatant too. I’m sure you’ve seen it and possibly denied it too. I have. . . .
But I’ve gotten off my subject. Sexuality is amazing. Good friends have sexual energy which I define as alive, vibrant, passionate, exciting, etc. That does not mean that they are sexual with each other, it means simply that sexuality is an energy. That’s another reason I write about sex. SEX IS ENERGY whether we react to it, respond to it or ignore it.
Over the years I had heard that older women were not interested in sex. I don’t remember where I first got the message, but it stuck. Perhaps it was my mother or her friends or even my friend’s mothers – if they even spoke of such things. I expected my life to follow that path.
Imagine my surprise when my interest didn’t fad about passion, romance and sex. Any day now, perhaps that will change – I don’t think so – not at 71.
As I speak to both single friends and those in relationships, they all hunger for a wonderful physical relationship consisting of not just the act of sex, but of hugging, touching, caressing, holding and kissing – all forms of delicious energy and often a part of sex and love.
Some women have no interest in sex. Some theories: perhaps they never had a wonderful lover, thus their interest in sex died a quick and easy death; perhaps early religious training made them think sex is dirty and bad; perhaps they had been traumatized at an early age – or even a later age; perhaps sex is painful. There are so many possible reasons, but in spite of the many theories, for most of us, sex is natural and beautiful and can create the most loving, wonderful alive vibrant feelings.
Another reason sex sells is because many many of us are voyeurs and reading a romance novel allows us to be the unseen person in our characters’ bedrooms and love lives (or of course, we must not forget that we often become the main character). How fun is that?! You know, like maybe we just are the heroine or lover of Mr. or even Miss Perfect!
Unlike porn films which are often too graphic, the written word allows us to fill in what we want, where we want it and actually who we want to participate with. A romantic hero who is tall, well-built, muscular, dark and handsome with beautiful chocolate eyes, a strong chin, dark hair and wonderful teeth, can fit many fantasies and will evoke in each of us, a different person or character. Each of us will imagine him to be just who we want him to be. I strongly suggest not looking at the cover of most romance novels, as the characters, in my humble opinion, don’t seem very sexy to me – but that is a whole other subject.
Romance novels and sex scenes allow us to fantasize without having to work at creating scenarios. Sex is done for us.
So why do I write sex scenes and why will I continue to write them? Because truly, sex isn’t really about sex. It’s about passion for life, for connection and love – those qualities all of us desire. It’s fantasy and reality, giving and receiving, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual – and of course, just sheer fun. When I write a sexy scene, I hope it has all these components and that is part of any love story – even with oneself! And I love writing them and sharing them with my husband who generously gives me feedback – how much better could that be?!

Sexy Love Scenes: Part 1

Sexy Love Scenes
This blog is a ramble, but there is so much to say and I’ve just begun to touch some of it. I would love your opinions on what I have written.
When I write a sexy love scene, it’s really about much more than sex. But then sex is really much more than about sex – even if it’s bad sex or uninvolved sex. And great sex is a deep body/mind/Spirit and emotional connection.
These are some of the many thoughts which ran through my mind as I sat and typed.
Sex has lots of qualities which can be positive, negative or even missing: intimacy, passion, excitement, fantasy, pleasure, love, security, vulnerability, power, control, trust, life, and it’s more fun than anything out there – or not. It can also have the qualities I’ve listed but in the most negative manner – like lack of security (you know, those who use sex to supposedly find “love,” lack of vulnerability (look at me, I never get involved because I can’t afford to be vulnerable), abuse of power, etc. Get the point?
No wonder sex sells! It’s got so much going for and against it.
Boredom, familiarity, routine, exhaustion, illness, age, fear, the prince or princess gone awry or gone from sexy to non-sexy, and a million other reasons speak to our sexuality. In fact, I doubt that there is practically anything in our lives that cannot touch this force that dwells within us all. I’m quite sure you could come up with your own list.
But in spite of it all, sex sells.
I have some ideas for the reasons – perhaps you have some too?
I believe the primary reason why sex sells is that everyone wants Love, and with new love (i.e., romance novel love) the sex is the “ideal.” It’s an exciting adrenaline-spiked high and tells of a love connection that stimulates our fantasy minds and hearts. Rarely is there love that is as exciting as “new” love – except of course our love for our kids, our pets, etc. But they are not as intimate in the same manner. It’s the fantasy of outrageous and awesome sex that sells but what we’re really all after is the heart connection. Wait – there might be some odd balls out there who just want the incredible romantic sex and not the love . . . but then there’s no accounting for those who are terrified of love.
TO BE CONTINUED!

What happens when we don’t listen to our intuition!

Recently I’ve had strong reinforcements that when I don’t follow my intuitive feelings that I get into lots of trouble. OK, so I didn’t acknowledge the small voice in my ear this time, nor did I see anything outstanding. It was just that sinking kind of feeling that what I was about to do was totally and completely wrong!

You see, I wanted to put our house on the market with what’s called “flat-listing.” For a certain fee, your house is put on Multiple Listing Services and if a realtor sells your house, they only get 2-3% commission instead of the normal 6-7%. It also means that any individual can buy the house without a realtor.

I emailed a certain company and got this really YUK feeling, especially when they didn’t answer my calls. But did I listen? NO! To make a very long story short, I went with that company anyway and my house was listed in the Denver, CO area. We live about 120 miles from Denver and our local listing agents are from the Pueblo Association of Realtors – not Denver. After the listing was up for about four weeks with no calls, I called a friend of mine who is a local realtor. She said, “Nina, your house is not listed on MLS.” OMG, I was totally freaked! This was on Saturday morning, so of course, no one was there for the weekend from the company I had listed it with.

On Monday, I called their office and spoke to the agent who attempted to tell me that the house was, in fact, listed in the Denver Metro listing. Why, I asked, would I want my house listed in Denver?

He informed me that was what the web site read, and proceeded to read it to me. I turned to the web page and read the heading on one of their pages which clearly said, “In addition to receiving a high quality listing on your local Realtor’s MLS . . . .” He then said words to the effect of, “Gee, this has never happened. You’re right, it does say that. I will tell the web page designer who is also the owner what’s happened and he’ll get back to you later in the day.”

After threats of going to the Better Business Bureau and my credit card company, the owner of the company finally replied to my emails and said that meant the Denver Metro area.

The issue is now in dispute with my credit card company.

One, I am annoyed with them for their faulty advertising, but mostly annoyed at myself for not listening to those tugs and pulls on my stomach and that little voice that clearly said “NO.”

Have any of you had instant feedback like that?

I actually love when the Universe supports me in what I know that I know – even if the “gifts/challenges” take a while to sort out! For me, the gift/lesson/challenge was once again to listen, pay attention and heed what Albert Einstein said, “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” Got it – at least for now!
Yogi's Meditation Garden

Everyone is intuitive!

Maritime Forest, South Carolina

A beautiful meditation spot.

I maintain that everyone is intuitive yet their intuition shows up in different ways.  And some hate the word intuition and prefer to call it “gut” feelings.  Whatever.  Here are three common ways intuition manifests.

The first is  clairvoyance which is the ability to see.  The things seen can be anything – past, future, inside bodies, seeing lost objects, etc.  The difficulty here is trying to interpret what you are seeing without your own values, beliefs and “junk” getting in the way.  Sometimes that is quite difficult!  To some extent, those who easily visualize are clairvoyant.  Often they just don’t believe their own pictures and ignore them.

The next is clairaudience and that is the ability to hear.  Heard,  can be your own Inner Guides, messages from those around you or those deceased, descriptives of anything, information regarding the past, present and Spirit Guides or teachers.  Sometimes the difficulty here is descerning what and whose voice you’re hearing!  If Grandpa was nuts when he left the world, he’s may still be nuts on the Other Side.  Choose carefully what and who you listen to!  Of course, then there’s our ego which is constantly screaming at us . . . that is not clairaudience.

Next is clairsentience, also called kinesthetic or empathic.  This is the ability to feel and experience what another is feeling and/or to pick up energy from anything – whether it be alive, dead or an inanimate object.  Problems arise here with not quite knowing when you even pick up something/someone other than yourself!  An empath can walk into a house and feel “negative or challenging” vibes and just want to leave.  That’s an easy example.   However, picking up vibes or another person’s energy or mood can cause distress –  primarily because you don’t realize it’s THEIR energy, and you don’t know how to get rid of it!

Empaths must learn to know what they are feeling so they aren’t overtaken by others.  Often empaths walk around or sit with their arms tightly folded against their solar plexus. . .   are you one of them?  Those who are clairsentient also pick up the “good” stuff . . . except that is more difficult to recognize and own.

My belief system:  we are all ONE, therefore, we can attune to another and know them deeply – if we choose.

 

How Once, Again came to be . . . or something like that – and other stuff too.

This is a very interesting title, because although I created it, I truly have no idea how the book came to be. I sat down at the computer one day and everything seemed to flow. Thom and Rachael told me their story.

Some of you may know that as I type, I constantly ask my Inner Guides all sorts of things. One of the questions I asked was what the name of the slave girl should be. I heard “Alaro.” When I finished writing for the day, I looked up “Alaro” on Google to see if anything was there. Surprisingly, it turned out to be a small town in Nigeria. Wow, that gave me goose bumps!

From then on, the story seemed to take on it’s own rhythm and words. I felt I was simply a channel. Especially when Thom and Rachael saw the house in Boston! It actually gave me goose bumps again!

However, without my forty years or so studying and experiencing many of the realms of metaphysics (above and beyond the physical) I could not have told the story. I have had many of the types of experiences Thom and Rachael had. As most of you know, I am a practicing psychic, I have experienced and done past-life regressions (yes, I had training!), I’ve played oh, so often, in the Void and have had at least two dreaming partners.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing Once, Again. It was fun because I had absolutely NO idea where it was going! NONE! I can’t tell you how many times the characters surprised me. The only thing I knew for sure was that Thom and Rachael had some really intense energy and I love happy endings and they did too!

As an aside, people ask me if the characters are like any I know – or are any of them me -especially the psychic! They’re not. They are them. With the exception of OM (the white cat gracing the cover of Sexy at Sixty) all characters are created from the figments of my imagination or from some other beings channeling their story to me. They know we are a good fit and I will tell the readers what they want them to know – as I did in Once, Again.

Welcome to a meeting place for 40+

Welcome to a meeting place for those of you who have hit your 40th.

Nina Dockery

Nina Dockery, Ed.D., Author,

I began writing novels because there were so few written for those of us who have reached a modicum of maturity… :-) In my books, you will find humor and a healthier form of relationships than most of us are blessed with.

The purpose of this site is to be an extension of my books and life.  If you are looking for a place with diverse subject matter based on common sense and intuition, please bookmark and come back often.

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