Camp NaNoWriMo, a Blog, and a Dog

I don’t know about you, but to me, April means Camp NaNoWriMo. I’m never one to let a NaNoWriMo event pass me by. Come April 1st and I was in my virtual Camp Cabin, chatting with my fellow writers and frantically typing away. Camp NaNoWriMo is always a month filled with frenzied writing, bursts of inspiration and unexpected challenges and this April was no exception.

My first challenge came in the form of RSI (Repetitive Stress Injury) in one of my hands, which reduced me to typing with one hand. Of course, being the stubborn writer I am, I refused to admit defeat and strapped my hand up in a wrist brace, bought an ergonomic keyboard, and soldiered on. While it made writing tough for a while, I wasn’t about to let it bring my Camp to an end early.

The next distraction came in the form of a brand new blog, this time about writing. For a long time I’ve wanted to start a blog about writing, but it wasn’t until this April that I actually got around to starting one. And so, Gossiping with Dragons was born. Of course, I started it in one of the busiest months of the whole year, but after all, that is what Camp NaNoWriMo is all about, the challenge.

Finally, we adopted a puppy from the animal shelter. A dog is another thing I've always wanted. So, just after Easter, right at the end of Camp when I needed to be catching up with the word count I got behind on during Easter, I was playing with a six month old puppy with a big nose and masses of curiosity. Nora is a bitzer, a bit of this and a bit of that, all combined to make a puppy that is a bundle of energy and endearingly friendly.

At the end of April, after all the challenges and distractions, what have I got? I have a Camp NaNoWriMo win, a brand new novel (in the form of a terrible first draft), a dog, and a new writing blog. To me, that equals a successful month.

How was your April? Like to come and visit my new blog? Did you take part in Camp NaNoWriMo? Anyone else got a dog with a nose like a vacuum cleaner? Any tips for avoiding RSI?

Riley; Free Giveaway?

It seems to me that if you want lot of people to come and visit your blog, you have to host a free giveaway. Something about the words 'free' and 'giveaway' seem to magnetise people towards your blog. If I was to host a giveaway, what would I offer? How about an unwanted cat called Riley? Would anyone have wanted her?

She sounded so good at first. A pedigree brown Burmese, friendly, loving and a real family cat. She was free to a good home, and we were a good home weren't we? We jumped at the offer, and took her on a trial basis. But we were sure she was going to be fine.

But from the very first moment, she was trouble. She cowered behind the sofa, hissing and spitting at any cat who came near. Our day was punctuated with unearthly yowls issuing from the furniture.
"Oh," we'd say. "It's only Riley."

Sammy was confused by Riley. He'd sneak up on her, wanting to play. But as soon as she saw him she'd hiss and run away, or try to scratch him. He'd look around, confusion written all over his face. What was wrong? Why didn't she want to play?

Riley, it seemed, didn't want to do anything. She only wanted to cuddle when it meant protection against the other cats. And if she wasn't behind the sofa, she was curled up in someone's bed, fast asleep. However, that didn't last for long.

Charlotte came flying out of our room. "Mum!" she cried. "Riley's been to the kitty litter on my bed."


We washed the sheets, blankets and pillows, and for several days, everything was calm. Then: "Mum, she's done it again." And again. And again. Seven times she messed up on Charlotte's bed, until Charlotte could hardly stand the sight of her. Everyone, it seemed, was getting tired of her. Her only supporter was Gemma-Rose.

Gemma-Rose had always wanted a cat that would like to be carried around, sit on her lap, and sleep in her bed. Riley didn't mind any of these thing. She seemed the perfect pet for Gemma-Rose. Every night, as she was heading off to bed for the night, Gemma-Rose would collect the cat. We wouldn't hear another peep from either of them until the next morning. But then Riley made a fatal mistake.

Early one Sunday morning, I was getting breakfast in the kitchen before anyone else was up. Little feet pattered on the floor. I turned, and saw a very grumpy looking Gemma-Rose standing next to me.
"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"Riley went to the kitty litter in my bed," she said. "While I was in it."
It was the last straw. Riley just couldn't stay any longer. We'd given her every chance, put up with her for months. What were we going to do with her? Could we giver her away for free?

Dad organised everything. "Come on Imogen," he called. "Grab her toys. We're taking Riley back to her home."

Not even Gemma-Rose was sad to see the back of Riley. She'd caused way too much trouble.

Her large eyes looked round nervously as Dad carried her in his arms up the street. Where was she? Why wasn't she inside? Where was she going? Why was she in the arms of this woman? Hang on, she remembered this place. It was her old home.

Not long afterwards, we heard that Riley was looking for a new home. She was already back to her messy tricks. We all hoped that one day, she'd find the perfect home, one with no other cats.

For those of you who came here looking for a real free giveaway, the only thing I can offer you is prayers. If you'd like me to pray for you or your intentions, please leave a comment below.

In Fear of the Bath

Saturday is washday. Not of clothes, as is normal, but of cats. Yes, in our house we wash even our cats. No animal smells wafting round the rooms for us. Every week they must be washed, whether they like it or not. And generally it's NOT.

When we first got Poppy she was a kitten. Right from week one she was bathed. And she did not like it. On only her second time in the bath I ended up wearing a scared cat on my head. Claws dug into my scalp as she tried to climb away from that nasty water.

But with regular washings we hoped that she would soon calm down and learn that water wouldn't hurt her. But, one year later we were still holding her down in the bath. However, with one small cat it wasn't too difficult to control her long enough to wash her beautiful long fur.

Then, enter complications in the form of two more cats. Sammy and Jenny came from a home where their own worked all day and had no time to spend with the cats. Bath day came round and I prepared to wash, not one angry cat, but three.

The towels were prepared. The shampoo was ready. The water was running. And I went hunting. Sammy peered up at me, not understanding what was going on, right up until I attempted to put him in the water. Suddenly I had a wild cat on my hands.

Grey body twisted and turned in my hands as I struggled to placehimin the war water. Finally, with one last frantic twist, he dashed out of the laundry, spreading water all over the tiled floor. I was left staring after him, clutching a deep scratch.

But I am nothing if not detirmined. Ten minutes later, after a long chase, ammy was safely in my hands. It took two of us to hold him in the water, but at last he was done. Then came Jenny. I was not in a mood to have another fight, and so took the precaution of having a helper to hold her in the water while I washed her.

Finally came Poppy. It felt so easy washing her. She seemed to behave herself better that day, as if she could tell that she was better behaved than either of the others.

Nowadays Jenny hides whenever she heard me preparing the laundry. We search under beds, inside cupboards and under sofas until we find her. However, after the first miserable mews, she sits in the water with no problems at all.

Sammy and Poppy hide under Mum's bed. We drag Sammy out, unhooking his claws from the carpet time after time. Once we get him into the bath however, he sits there, his tail drooping in the water, mewing pitifully, but not doing much else.

No, it is Poppy who is the problem now. She hides away when we search for her, wails dismally, and tries to get out of the bath at every opportunity. A few weeks ago I let go to get some shampoo. At that, she was off. Her wet fur flopped everywhere as she scrambled to get away. She slipped and slithered on her own water as she fled.

I followed her, trying hard to keep my balance on the wet tiles. Finally, after chasing her through the whole house, I cornered her behind an armchair. Holding her tightly, I transferred her back to the sink, while the other girls mopped up the flood on the floor.

Washing cats. Is it worth all the wet and bother just to have a nice, clean smelling house? Well, we think so.

Two Loving Cats

I was lucky enough to catch two of our cats in the cutest positions tonight. Sammy and Jenny are both gentle loving cats. And to see them together like in these photos is so cute!

Sleeping side by side. No problems at all. How sweet!

Sammy grooms Jenny. The perfect show of love between cats.

Typical. Jenny's had enough. No more licking Sammy! I might have to get rough.

All forgiven. Fast asleep again too. Such is the love of cats.