In Memory: The Cat Stars

The Grand Old Cat had passed on. At least, I got to spend more time with him than I did my father in his last few days. I miss you, little one- you were a comfort for many things you had nothing but empathy to know about.

The Cat Stars

Shining in the morning sky, three planets come to conjunction. Normally, this would be a happy even for humans, but the cat community knew better, this time. Fur ruffled, claws sharpened, and extra eating and affection had been the order of the week. Now was the time to use that energy, an join together for the battle.

Even the she-cats, not known for their restraint during a season of heat were there. Flowing like a shadowed river, cats, from all sections of town, poured over the fences, pathways, and underbrush to meet in a school's small brick-fenced yard. No one could see them there, and they fell to grooming, mating and socializing. An unseen and unheard signal stopped all of this- the one mating that was going on was finished in a record time. Hundreds of eyes focused on the sky.

Clouds passed, wind driven and shredded into nothing more than shadows themselves. The moon had set, and still they watched. Cats continued to come in, like cloud-shadows themselves, to join the throng.. All sitting, and watching the sky.

A spark appeared. Nothing that would be outstanding to a human. But it unleashed a wave of emotion in the gathered felines. The rumors were true. One of their own had passed. The few that knew him personally were saddened, but knew he had a home- had helped raise children, had comforted his people, and watched them grow, and change. And leave. All remembered his sadness when one had left, and again, when another died. But, for the sake of those remaining, he was able to put aside his grief, and continue on. Still loved, still cared for. And those there allowed him his grief, and understood.

Fur twitches and tails told the stories he had shared. Of the move from his mother and sisters to the new home. Of exploring the house, an breaking things. Of a shift to another house, one that felt like home. The care that was shown by the person that got him- and the children he was able to help raise. The adventures of the people that came- and the tales of horror when the world was disturbed; by weather, or time change, or jobs. The distress of a hospital visit- and the joys of coming back to his family.

Young ones now had a reason to appreciate their families, and those cats that supported them. Strays would now consider being more friendly to humans, for a bit, in hopes of finding a good home. As the sun rose, all slipped back to their places- the inside cats to cuddle with the people who loved and protected them, and the outside ones to go visit the people that did care for them, an maybe give them an extra- or a first- purr.

The wind blew chill, the warm, as if he was saying goodbye to his friends. The sun rose, on a day of sadness and remembrance of the cat who had passed, and all of those who had memories of him.  

Flash Fiction-Contract of the Ages

I can feel them here-watching and murmuring on my decision. Down the passage of time, the history of the family, and those that I wish were family. The ruler going to 'discuss' peace terms while faced with a superior army. The peasant who needed money, and all they had to spare were children. Attorneys that defended a client in desperation. Those that made hard decisions, for both good and ill. They all felt this way. Never shifting from their higher ideals, taking what would be considered pride in the choices made that would shape them.

I wish I didn't have to feel this way.

The paper in front of me brings the voices here. I really don't believe in a mystical connection to those in the past, but I can sense that this situation has been played out many, many times over the centuries. Reading the documents carefully, noting the phrases, the commas, even the way the letters are shaped individually and overall. Hoping that maybe, somehow, a picture of what this will mean to me will form and answer my doubts, and prove the connection.

Nothing comes to mind. With a deep sigh, I read the documents again, the words making me feel that the mistakes of the past were here. On the surface, these were standard documents: a simple contract, spelling out duties in terms simplified to the point of idiocy, penalties, bonuses--nothing threatening to most people. But I still hesitate to sign.

There, done. Now the ritual of formalities to get through. Handshakes, smiles, and welcoming statements. All seemingly so insincere. Tomorrow would mark the change in my world-for the best or the worst. Always the chance that you take in these moments.

Papers in hand, walking out of the building to find the teal-colored car that was promised as a signing bonus waiting. Opening the door, the scent of leather, wood, and glue showed the care that the restoration had been given.The deal was done, and the commitment made-- I start work in the morning.

DayStart Team 1: Tuesday with ZachSchoolMan

A long week, and this only Tuesday! was the thought of our high school aged hero. The last two weeks had been full of activity: footballs games and dances, fishing, working and spending time with family, homework, paid work, and the many activities that filled a normal teenager's life. Studies have shown that most teens were three to five hours a week short on sleep, but-in murmuring along the hallway- it seemed that ZachSchoolMan was determined to survive on no more sleep than that.

Backpack stuffed to near-bursting with electronics, books, papers, files, and gym clothes, ZachScholMan stumbled up the street. He knew this was going to be a rough day: a new person had taken over the secretary duties after the old one had left, and no one was really sure what type of person they had. ZachSchoolMan simply hoped to be left alone- he knew his job. He certainly did not need some new person telling him to do precisely what he was doing, or worse, to not do what he knew he should do. The Boss had been distracted...and that paper for Biology was due, as well. A usual, he would have to do several things at once, and hope that his brain didn't type the answer to a biology problem into the wrong spot. The Boss would likely not appreciate "Biceps femoris and Gastrocnemius" as an answer to "What are you working on?"

Flopping down the backpack that threatened to be half his body weight on a daily basis, ZachSchoolMan turned it sideways, and slid his Mac out of the bag. After setting it aside, he dumped the entire contents of the pack all over the bed, nearly burying Jasper, the dog who had unwisely decided that the bed was a safe place to sleep this time of day. Yelping in fear and fury, Jasper, a book, and several papers made a break for the door. Grabbing the book was the easy part. A few moments later, papers rescued and the dog convinced that the ceiling was not collapsing on her, ZachSchoolMan was able to sort the contents of the pack back into the piles they had originally been placed in the pack.

And, of course, the computer- the second it came out of sleep mode- made a series of sounds that meant ZachSchoolMan had messages from several sources. Judging by the number they made, apparently something had been missed, an assignment forgotten, or his sister had been sending him files. With a resigned sigh, and a longing look at the television, ZachSchoolMan started the second 8 hours of his day. Setting up the computer, he started on the messages that had accumulated during the day.

Thankfully, today, there were not that many critical items. A reminder on a project, an update on his fund-raising efforts, and only 14 messages from The Boss! Most of those were chatter, to be ignored other than to acknowledge that he had read them, and the others were tasks that needed accomplished last week., in The Boss' opinion. The new person was a bit too casual for comfort, in ZachSchoolMan's opinion, but that would work itself out with time. The critical things were to get the work done- a shower and early bed was sounding more tempting.

With a deep breath, ZachSchoolMan plunged into homework. Biology, Civics, And Geometry made a stew of his brain cells- and the occasional message from The Boss just added to the confusion, spicing the thoughts of geometric points with names of coworkers. The teacher, thankfully, understood that ZachSchoolMan did have a job, and the occasional point or line being named “Wally” or “Miss A” didn't even faze them anymore.
A slurp of the Monster nearby, and a handful of Cheetos brought the mind into focus again, the homework looked over, and ready to go back into the bag. And now, to work!

Chatting with co-workers was the only way to get things done, ZachSchoolMan had found. The Boss would occasionally invite him, in the middle of the school day, to a meeting. This couldn't work, but he would still be expected to know everything that had happened in the meeting. The secretary normally made sure that notes got left so he could read them at his leisure during the day. Today's call, however, seemed to have been going since lunch. Which meant that either everyone was in trouble, everything was done, and they were getting congratulated, or -and most likely- The Boss was lonely and thought that everyone was ignoring him. If it were the latter- then the next two days were going to be frantic, getting everything caught up. These longer calls normally generated more email, more posts on social media, and less actual work that could be accomplished.

A new email account that The Boss wanted ZachSchoolMan to check, after a few moments, became an easy job- within the first three words of the email, ZachSchoolMan was able to classify, sort an dispose of the emails in this folder. After a quick auto-note to the old secretary, and then erasing it since they would never see it, he thought how many hours that were spent on these types of things, and his initial amazement at the ability to sort the emails as quickly as had been done. And now recognized how many times the job could take three hours, basing it on the 140 emails that were in the folder, that took nearly an hour by themselves.

Jasper, sensing an inaudible-to-humans threat to her family, launched with a bark. From under ZachSchoolMan's chair. This bark, of the quantity to cause porcupines,an hedgehogs to curl up for protection, and frighten any medium-sized scary-cat, has the unintended side effect of opening 8 emails, all in new windows. As well. But yelling would do no good- the room echoed a bit with the barks of the dogs, and those of the neighbors who figured that if one needed to sound the alarm, the rest should, as well. With a resigned shrug, ZachSchoolMan picked up the chair he had been so abruptly removed from,and picked up earphones in an attempt to drown out the barking.

After a quick skim of the next account, barking might be preferable. It started off with a few English emails, the slipped into gibberish, even though the words were still English. This did not bode well: a quick glance showed 125 e-mails to go through. A new tab to translate the non-English ones helped, a bit, but what was one supposed to make of “I have vanished from the office. Please send order to our office sometime in next few months? The specifications are not clear, and we cannot purchase at this time.” The filing folders simply didn't make room for this. At least this was in English, so ZachSchoolMan didn't have to wait to be confused. After a few dozen of these, ZachSchoolMan was ready to scream. One place, apparently in a fit of anger, had sent the same email to him multiple times. And was continuing to send it repeatedly. He would just get to the end of a page of emails, and the system would refresh, with a new batch of 25 that had anyplace between 3 an 17 of the same emails. From the same address. None of which made sense, or was even amusing.

After deciding this was a truly never-ending task, ZachSchoolMan opened one email, and declared it the 'first' email. The rest of them went quickly-most were auto-replies, or people that were not in the office. He calmly ignored the fact that he now had the 'first' email on page four. After fighting his way down to the end of the emails, he went and counted the number of emails that had been done, and placed it in the correct spot on his daily report. The chat program had been pinging on a regular basis: but knowing The Boss, it was likely a series of comments, grumbles, and outright ramblings about his day, and what his thoughts were. ZachSchoolMan reasoned that this would be fine, if he were not at school and million other activities- but as things sat, these simply needed ignored, in order to accomplish anything.

Seeing Jasper sneak back into the room created a problem-thankfully one easily solved. The dog loved Cheetos, and would lick the coating off before settling down to crunch, in the loudest, most annoying manner possible, the now-clean puff itself. So a simple 'oops' dropped a pair of Cheetos onto the floor, separated by a few inches. And since Jasper was not supposed to have them, ZachSchoolMan was able to carefully ignore the dog quietly creeping up on the unsuspecting snack..and turned up the music so the sound of slurping dog did not distract from work.

The next few tasks were annoying, at best. The Boss had a spreadsheet of the passwords and other things that ZachSchoolMan was expected to check.. and for three days it had been “ Oh, yeah! You need that.. I'll do it in a minute.” But a reminder would likely only cause a series of messages, now impossible to ignore, to start up. So, making the daily attempt at checking servers, answering other emails, and trying to get into some of the social media that was set up took only a few moments to attempt again the passwords that he insisted might be the ones needed. That were the exact same set that had been tried on other days.

Headphones off-even dogs barking or slurping Cheetos was more welcome than this section- the daily mess of The Boss' favorite social media site. Everyone but ZachSchoolMan was tasked with posting, responding to 600 comments a day (when there are only 12 comments coming in, this becomes counter-productive in a hurry, in his opinion), and making posts. ZachSchoolMan grinned as he read a few of them, thinking that this must be the stuff of English teacher and grammarian's nightmares. The new people were much more casual about the posts: ZachSchoolMan cringed when he saw some of them- this wasn't any form of professional – but The Boss was happy with them, so he let it go, and simply tallied the results. Which meant, in effect, that he took each posts statistics, and placed them into words.

That task finished- and Jasper snoozing comfortably on the bed, ZachSchoolMan yawns, stretches, then quickly posts his daily report while the Mac is starting its power-off cycle. If this isn't timed well, the next day the report is gone, or The Boss notices that homework is done, and wants to talk. With a final stretch, ZachSchoolMan heads off to the shower, already muttering plans for the next day, threats against those who have no taste in posting, and carefully leaving a pathway in case Jasper assumes, in her sleep, that a shower is something that is a threat. Another day ended, and nearly another one mentally begun.