Sorry this is so blurry, but it’s hard to catch her at some of her weirdness. Here she is sitting in a puddle. Yes, in the shallow end, but she’s just sitting away in the puddle. One of my friends, on Twitter, says this is pretty typical behavior for a Maine Coon. Except that she’s so tiny. I mean, she’s smaller than the tiny cat was. Ask anyone who’s ever petted her. But she looks like a Maine Coon in many other respects–the furry toes, the rectangle body, the raccoon-like tail, the vocalizations.
I like to think that someone has a Bonsai Maine Coon breeding program here in town and she’s just an escapee.
I just finished a story that is so terrible that it makes me wonder if I ought to put some kind of warning on some of the stories. It was an interesting story to write because I think, subconsciously, I must have known how it would have to go, but I was writing along to the very end going “Hmm, I wonder how I can resolve this in a way that ties everything together and makes sense.” And then I got this shiver all down my body, because I suddenly knew how it had to end and it was so terrible. And even when I finished it, my first thought was to reread it and try to figure out who was most to blame for not stopping this terrible thing.
And then I realized–I am to blame. I wrote it that way. And it just felt so powerful to know I could write something that pissed me off and made me afraid.
But a major part of the problem is that, when you’re writing about witches, you’re often writing about terrible things happening to people, because who else gets blamed for that nonsense?
Anyway, I don’t suppose it’s sadder or more terrible than things that happened in the ghost stories, but it struck me as something I might not want to read again on purpose.