Silver and Gold (An unfinished draft...someday I may finish it...my outline included at the end)

We adopted a cat who was abandoned by a neighbor who moved away a number of years ago. My brother decided to name her Silver, why 'Silver' I still don't know. She is quite a pretty cat: long fur, calico, and the cutest huge white paws. She is also one of the more affectionate cats you'd meet, she wasn't very fond of other cats, but she just erupted into a thunderstorm of purring if you just glanced her way. She loves attention. She knows her name and meows back anytime you talk to her. She adopted an empty flower pot to sleep among the flowers and a friend of mine called her her little Silver Flower and the name always stuck in my mind.

As she grew older she became predominantly an outside cat except for cooler winters and lonely nights. She grew older again and needed more help upkeeping her masses of fur, I brushed her as often as I could, she melted at my attentions as I tried to help her feel pretty again. Time went on, she got older, her health started on a downhill. We made her a special bed when she had a lonely night and wanted to sleep inside. She remained my Silver Flower and spent most of her time sleeping in her flower pot amongst the flowers. She went missing from her favorite places and I found her not long after, gone quietly away to pass on. She now sleeps amongst flowers more beautiful than any on this earth and never has to worry about tangles in her fur or feeling lonely, never again to have ill health. I imagine her still as my Silver Flower, napping away in her own special flower pot in the clouds.

A Saturday not long before, I was cleaning/practicing and taking the occasional peek at "Little Mama" my little bird friend watching over her baby eggs. About a half hour had gone by since I had last peeked out the window, I heard a thump outside near the front porch and went to investigate. When I opened the door I saw the wreath that my little finches had nested on had fallen to the ground. I looked around and when I saw no culprit I picked it up and checked the nest. One, two, three, four...all the tiny blue speckled eggs were safe and sound. Relieved, I carefully placed the wreath back up on its nail and went inside to the window and waited for Little Mama to return. She did, hopped around a bit and settled in after giving me a wary and suspicious look. I told her she needn't worry about me, that I would help her protect her nest and her babies. I left the window and my little friend and returned to my Saturday activities.

An hour or two later I heard another thump. I must have been busy with practicing or something because it took a little while for the 'thump''s meaning to process in my mind. When it finally clicked I went out to check on the little nest, first through the window. The wreath had again fallen. I went out and hurriedly picked it up for examination. The nest was empty. I looked all over the porch for the tiny speckled eggs. The porch was clean. I looked again in the nest hoping beyond hope that they might have magically returned to their place. It was empty. I could see my little friend sitting in the nearby tree chiding me so I reluctantly put the wreath back up with its empty nest. I looked around again and saw no sign of the sweet little eggs anywhere. I went back inside and to the window. Little Mama flew back to her nest and my heart broke as she hopped around and cocked her head at all angles looking for her soon-to-be-babies. She looked at me again, but this time almost seeming confused and questioning. I had failed her, I took too long to save the wreath, her nest, and her babies from whatever had desecrated it. She flew off chirping and returned a few minutes later with Little Papa, who I had never seen before then. They both took turns hopping around their empty nest, cocking their heads every which way, chirping to each other, sitting where their eggs should have been only to hop back up in despair. My heart broke again as they would sit in their empty nest for a few minutes longer, searching a few minutes longer, fly back to their tree or the roof and come back chirping, looking sadly to me and each other and their empty nest. I couldn't help but feel that I might have been able to save their babies if only I had come faster, if only I had watched longer, if only... After a couple hours of searching and flying from tree to tree to roof to nest to tree they went away and I never saw them return to the nest.

Weeks later these stories and the memories of other sad times all came back to me as a good sized spider gave me a fright. I am usually not bothered by the creepy crawly bugs much, but this time I couldn't bring myself the courage to even catch it and set it free outside.

finding Silver....finding charly...heart broken little mamma...jumping spider (couldn't smash, innocent, prayed to go away, ...break down... tofu not catch it...let it get out of sight......... found more info=all better (blessed with comfort!)) always comforted, so grateful