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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.

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

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.

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