F. P. Dorchak

Speculative Fiction (New Weird) Author

Cats

Cat on a Couch

by

Chloe and Cassie, December 2004
Chloe and Cassie, December 2004

I have put off writing about this for a while…but it happened again, yesterday, so I simply can’t ignore it any longer. It’s not just a trick of light or shadow. It’s something else, entirely.

In August of 2007, while I’d been on a business trip, we lost one of our cats, Cassie, to kidney failure and another complication. She was a beautiful gray and white “flower child” mouser who would actually go outside and smell our flowers. Not kidding…she would go up to them and stick her nose into the petals and just, well…smell. She also had a habit of dropping dead voles and field mice at our patio doorstep (on occasion sneaking them into the house before I could see what it was she had in her mouth). But we called her our “flower child.” She was very sweet and loving and our first cat as a couple. She loved to sit up on the top edge of one of our couches, the one before our picture window, and just look out at the world.

A pensive cat.

A philosopher cat.

She would either hunker down on the left side or sit upright. In the picture above you see that “dent” on the left, where our other feline is sitting? She did that.

Well, ever since her passing, I’ve kept catching brief images of a cat (not Chloe) on the top of that couch. I’d stop and back up…looking to the couch…and would see nothing. I would bid Cassie a “Hello, Cassie!” and move on.

Well, it happened again yesterday morning as my wife was getting off to work (I took the day off). The curtains were open. I had walked through the kitchen, which has a view of the above-mentioned area, and again caught a flash of a cat sitting upright on the middle top edge of that couch (just a smidge to the left of where Cassie is in the picture).

I still have that image burned in my mind.

There was a cat there.

Then there wasn’t.

And Chloe was sleeping upstairs on “her” (our) spare bed; I’d just come from there.

I backed up and looked…no Cassie. Told my wife about it.

Now I’m writing this.

Hello, Cassie!

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Beggin for You To Like Me….

by

facebook engancha
Man, this guys’ work is GOOD…. (Photo credit: facebook engancha, Wikipedia)

Okay, I admit it, I’m beggin’ for all your help!

I told myself I’d never do this, but it’s just not happenin’ as fast as I thought it would. Or maybe not so much “fast,” as…at all.

I got this Facebook page, see.

Only 19 “Likes.”

I’ve tried spreading the word by word of mouth, but even my mouth has limitations (yes, Dad, I know, hard to believe…).

You see, I thought I’d organically (isn’t that a cool term?) allow my FB page to grow as things progressed…not artificially asking people to, you know, please Like me, I’m so needy!…but, yes, it’s come to this, and I humble myself before you and pronate, prostrate, and whatever other -ate, and beg for you to like me.

Why?

Because I have low self-esteem?

An ego that needs bolstering?

I’m so unlikable I need reinforcement that I’m not?

Maybe.

But the real reasons are simple: 1) apparently, in the mode of Facebook I’ve subscribed into, the more Likes I get the more capability I get. I don’t know what those capabilities are…but I’m told they’re cool. And save the world. I haven’t signed up as a “regular” user, who can hop from FB page to page and Like the hell out of everyone’s pages. I’ve signed up at a biz/artist page. It has limitations I admit I, uh, like…but also I ask this because, 2) I am trying to gain more exposure for my work (not me, you see, but my work, my books…).

And if you like my page, you get to help save the world.

So, you see, it really isn’t about me. Not at all, nor my ego. It’s about saving the world and my stories. Couldn’t care less if you like me, just like my work. Please. I’m beggin you. My stories keep hammering me to be read by more and more of the world. They want world domination, and they’re not really very happy with me right now, cause I haven’t been promoting them enough (I’m tryin—I’m tryin!). After all, they, say, what’s the point of writing them, if no one’s gonna read them? Sure, I tell them I read you…over and over…I even make you better with each reading…I tend and care for you, polish you…whisper sweet nothings into your ears and nibble and stroke—well, that’s for another story. Anyway, it all falls on deaf ears. They want more…and they’re beginning to threaten.

I’m scared.

So, please…help a fellow out…visit my Facebook page and just click that little old button that says “Like,” or whatever. You know the drill. Maybe spread the word a little to your friends and colleagues…cats and dogs. Goldfish. Of course, if you just plain hate my efforts, I won’t force you into this, but if you have even a little interest in my work…’twould be greatly appreciated. If I then gain the ability to Like your pages, you can be dang sure I’ll visit and return the favor. And this’ll get my voices to back off to pursue more creative endeavors….

Thanks!

(Did the cat picture do it?)