Cooking the Hook - NEW

After the crying came the scolding. After a hearty meal and a wash, she wanted to go back out.  "Nonsense", the experts say. Colin and I agreed that we would respect this new facet of her personality and be sure she's never out after dark. Prudent. I like nothing better than hanging out in the front yard, the three of them lolling on the warm concrete or the tall grass. Free as cats.  Camilla came to us damaged goods only three years ago . I've been fairly sure that the head injury she sustained as a kitten and her broken wrist last year,  affected her range of skills as a cat. Silly me.  I've had a lot of cats in my life. Characters all, each with deep personalities. She's the only one who has undertaken adventure on her own. Unless something chased her. In which case, bravo on getting away, and good on ya for putting your wayfinding skills to work.  Something about the smug way she strolled into my bedroom after seven days AWOL to go face down in the food bo...

 So read the stained, hand-lettered sign on the front door.       Ace sat with his back to the room and appeared to be reading a small prayer book. Actually, he was tearing out the pages one by one and eating them, chewing slowly, and looking up at the ceiling of his cage as if he was memorizing the text. Billy, the Winsock’s owner and bartender, said he only ate one or two pages a day—it was not as if he was hungry. Billy fed Ace every time he fed himself. In fact, he fed Ace first like he was worried about being poisoned; a fair concern because he treated the cook like dirt.      It bothered Bea to see Ace locked up like that. It was obvious that he was constantly pissed off, unlike most captive monkeys, who sank into apathy after a while. If anyone but Billy approached the cage, Ace screamed and flung himself around inside. If you put your hands anywhere near his reach or grasp, there would be blood. He once bit off and ate a drunk’s ...

  That was then. This is now. O....shun. Breathe that O in. A prayer. Let the breath lift your heart, spirit riding along.  Lay a sweet caesura. Just one lub-dub. Then let the shun take grateful wing. Again, slower. Lower.  Peace, like a river, Paul said.  O-shun. I didn't know I was calling her. 

  All those hearts .  I forgot that Love's a player. A fierce one.