Writing

2020 has been a difficult year. I think we can all agree on that. There have been too many deaths to count in this year alone, but there’s someone in particular I would like to honor, someone that I lost, someone who died of old age. That someone is my cat, Max. Max was one of the best cats I’ve ever had and I miss him everyday.

Fourteen years ago, my family and I took in five six-week-old orphaned kittens: two girls, three boys. This litter had lost their mom and their owner was too busy to care for them. Animal Samaritans put out an ad and we volunteered to foster them. It was the summer and I was only a kid, so we had plenty of time to look after them. So, in June 2006, I suddenly found myself sharing my room with the five kittens, which was fine by me. When my mom and I went to pick up the kittens, my mom filled out forms and talked to the vet, while I sat and watched the kittens in the pet carrier. At one point, I asked the vet what was the gender of one of the cats. She reached inside, pulled out a black and fluffy cat, and held him up. A moment passed before she answered, “Boy.” Soon afterward, my mom and I left with our noisy passengers and returned home.

Once we were in my room, I opened the carrier and waited for the cats to exit. They were all huddled in a little ball at the back, too frightened to move. Finally, the black and fluffy male slowly and cautiously left his siblings and started exploring my room. My first thought was to name him “Louis,” after Lewis and Clark, but that name didn’t seem to fit. The other four watched their brave brother, anxious for his safety. When we humans naturally didn’t attack, three more kittens exited. Only the tiny runt of the litter stayed behind, but we managed to coax that one out in the end. On that first day, the five found a hole in my mattress that even I didn’t know about. They all snuggled into their little nest and we had to use food to tempt them out.

Throughout all this, my parents told me that we wouldn’t be able to keep any of them, that this was only temporary, but I didn’t believe them. I was confident that we would keep at least one of them and began naming them all. All I had to work with, however, was the knowledge that the black and fluffy cat in the litter was male. Two were black and tan and striped like little tigers, one was tan on top and white on the bottom, while the fourth was a mix of white, tan, and black. I knew two were female and two were male, but beyond that, I just had to guess. I decided that the two identical black and tan mini-tigers were male and, because I couldn’t tell them apart, I named them Fred and George. Eventually, one grew twice the size of the other. The bigger one became Fred, while the smaller one was George. The tan and white cat was full of energy and would wrestle with Fred whenever she could, so I named her Skitty. The mixed color cat was named Jenny, after a cat in one of my mom’s favorite books.

The only cat without a name was the black and fluffy leader. I agonized over his name, trying to find the right one. I considered “Whiskers” and “Paws,” but they just weren’t right. I thought of “Louis” again, but it was still a bad fit. Finally, I decided on “Max.” I don’t know how that name came to me, but the name just stuck and the bravest little cat in the whole litter, the little explorer, was Max from then on.

Going to sleep with the cats was interesting. They all had their own personal favorite spots on my bed. Jenny would knock things off my desk; Fred and Skitty would walk on me and put their paws on my mouth, trying to wake me up; Max would lay right next to my foot, so I couldn’t move it without bothering him; and George would just sleep in the corner, away from his siblings.

One time, I was feeding the kittens from a bottle. I would offer it to the swarm of mewing balls of fluff and one of them would latch on, drinking furiously. After a minute, I would yank it out of their mouth, much to their annoyance, and offer it to another cat, so they would all get a turn. Afterward, they all converged on me, meowing for more. I had to go to my mom and ask for help. She was making formula for them. She was their best friend when she arrived with the food.

As they grew that summer, their personalities began to shine forth. Fred and Skitty would constantly wrestle and I called them “gladiators.” Max and Jenny would climb little cat trees and get stuck halfway up, causing us to have to unstick their claws. George just sat quietly out of the way.

In early August, my family and I were due to go on a vacation, so we had to give them back to Animal Samaritans. I was devastated. I didn’t want to say good-bye. Luckily, my parents finally agreed that we could keep not one, but two kittens. They said it would be for the best to keep at least two together, so they would always have a friend. Immediately, I zeroed in on Max and Jenny as the two we would keep. We took them back and I tearfully said my farewells to Fred, George, and Skitty. When we returned to from the week-long vacation, I was overjoyed to learn that Animal Samaritans wanted us to keep all five a bit longer. They also told me that I got two of the cats’ genders wrong. Max, Fred, and Skitty were correct, but it turns out Jenny was a boy and George was a girl. I changed Jenny’s name to Oliver and George simply became Georgie.

We continued to look after the five and my parents decided it would be a good time to introduce them to our other pets. Dinah and Tuffy, the two cats, were less than thrilled to meet them. They seemed aghast that there were more cats in the house. Martha, our dog, was super excited. After this, my parents took me aside and said that Max and Fred had stayed calm and collected around Dinah, Tuffy, and Martha, but Oliver, Skitty, and Georgie seemed more nervous. In the end, we gave back Skitty, Georgie, and Oliver and kept Max and Fred.

Now with only two cats in the house, Max and Fred became inseparable. They did everything together, or almost. Max was always an outdoor cat, while Fred preferred the inside. We introduced them to the outside slowly. I would go out with them and monitor what they were doing. One day, Max and Fred were exploring and I looked up and saw a bird. I’m not entirely sure, but I think that bird was a hawk. Panicking, I immediately shepherded them back inside. They allowed themselves to be herded. I think they knew something was up, given my body language, but instinct directed them to follow me when there was danger around.

As the years went by, things changed around the house. We lost Tuffy (I think coyotes got him), Dinah died, then Martha died, and about a year later we got a new dog named Dottie. My mom’s uncle and his two cats, Rufus and Sweetie Pie, stayed with us for a bit, but he died as well. Throughout all this, Max and Fred have been a constant in my life. Fred is my little shadow, while Max is the independent little explorer, who sneers at me when I hug him.

A year ago, as 2020 began, my family consisted of me, my parents, my brother, Max, Fred, Rufus, Sweetie Pie, and Dottie. Sweetie Pie started off 2020 unwell. She was a little food thief, but she was very small. The last time I weighed her, she was only about five pounds. In early June, my brother and I went off to Yellowstone to work. A week after our departure, my mom called and said Sweetie Pie was worse. She wasn’t really moving. The next day, I got the news that Sweetie Pie had died. The only cats left in the house were Max, Fred, and Rufus.

Life went on. The season at Yellowstone was shortened to four months, due to COVID-19. In August, right as we hit the halfway point, my mom gave me more bad news. Max wasn’t feeling well. He wouldn’t come out from beneath his favorite table and he really wasn’t eating. I froze in horror, sure I had misunderstood. We had just lost Sweetie Pie two months ago, and now, this? I spent the whole day in numb disbelief. The next morning, I called and immediately asked how Max was doing. My mom was crying. Max had died either late the night before or early that morning. I cried too. I never got to say good-bye to Max, or pet him one final time, or even speak words of comfort. Max was suddenly… gone and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Max went through a lot in his life. He lost his mom, was separated from three of his siblings, and was even injured by Rufus when they fought for dominance. Max was even once locked outside by accident. A gate was left open and I closed it, not realizing Max was out front, until I saw his paws frantically scrabbling under the gate. No matter what you threw at Max, he was always a sweet and intelligent little cat, who loved me despite my hugs.

I will always love Max, even though he is now far away from here. And I still have Fred, who is almost as patient with my hugs as Max, and who loves to snuggle with me at night.

Rest in Peace, Max. (approximately May 6, 2006 – August 4, 2020)

Thanksgiving came late this year. And I’m not talking about where it landed on the calendar. This year, my family and I celebrated Thanksgiving on Friday, November 27th. This was to give my brother Bill and nephew Grant time to visit us, since Grant was working on Thursday. They have not been having an easy time of it recently and they needed to be surrounded by loved ones.

We had a good visit with them. It was just myself and my parents there to greet them, since my other brother Daniel was at work. We talked about books, Grant’s job, opinions on video games, etc. My dad kept Bill and Grant entertained with stories about hockey while my mom and I were in the kitchen.

Things really picked up when Daniel returned home in the early afternoon. He, Bill, and Grant see eye to eye when it comes to video games and I could hear the three of them laughing and enjoying themselves from where I was helping out in the kitchen. It was really heartwarming to see. Amidst the chaos of the world today, my family still found reasons to be grateful.

It’s October, the time for leaves changing colors, crisp air, and winter on the way. Or, if you’re me, October means getting ready for Christmas. Earlier this month, I left Yellowstone for the season and returned home. My first order of business was to take all the Christmas presents I had gathered over the year and wrap them, even before Halloween. Now, you’re probably gaping at me, wondering why I would do this so early. The answer is simple: I Love Christmas!

Christmas is the best holiday ever, in my opinion. All the decorations, the Christmas tree and my cats hiding behind it, hot chocolate on Christmas morning, and, of course, the presents. I love opening presents, but what I really adore is choosing presents for other people. Whether it’s imagining the recipient’s reaction, or watching it in person, I’m always so giddy when I think about how happy everyone will be.

So, what about Halloween? Do I just not care about it? No, I like Halloween. I loved dressing up when I was a little kid and go trick-or-treating. The main character of my book, Silver Rose, is a witch. I still dress up every year and walk around my house. We also have a tradition at my house, where we watch “The Nightmare Before Christmas” every Halloween. It’s the perfect mix of Christmas and Halloween.

I’m ready for Christmas, but I can take a break from my holly jolly excitement and celebrate a holiday that’s all about costumes and candy. Merry Christmas to all and a Happy Halloween!

The tourist season at Yellowstone is almost at an end. My last day is October 4th and then I’m heading back home. It has definitely been an interesting year, for the world and here at Yellowstone.

Over the four months I’ve been here, I’ve seen people who refuse to wear their masks, and had some… unique interactions with them. A few weeks ago, I was on the door and someone tried to get in past me. I told her politely that she had to wear a mask to enter the building, but she accused me and the company I work for of “illegal practices.” She claimed to have a medical problem and can’t wear a mask. I’ve been told that we aren’t doing anything illegal, that this is for the health and safety for everyone. The woman yelled angrily at me, before turning away and leaving in a huff.

Recently, I was making a reservation for a man wanting to stay in the hotel. Several other employees were standing behind me, talking about the increased attendance to the park (it looked like the 4th of July, there were so many people), when a man came in and got one of my coworker’s attention. He wanted her to call the rangers, because he believed a crime had taken place. She asked him to put on a mask before she made the call and he immediately started yelling at her, saying that wearing masks was illegal. Both the guest I was helping and I looked up at that, our eyebrows raised. When she insisted that it was all perfectly legal, the screaming man stormed out, saying that he would call the rangers himself. I never saw him again for the rest of my shift, so I don’t know whether he was successful or not.

I’m glad I came and I met a lot of nice people, both my coworkers and guests. I’m going to miss every one of them when I leave.  There have been so many kind and thoughtful people. A woman asked me a for a comment card a few days ago. She wanted to thank the maintenance workers who came to help her in her cabin. But, all in all, I’m going to be happy to head home. I’m homesick for my parents and our pets and, I’m ready to start the next phase of my life, hopefully as a successful author.

8-30-20

“Can we bring our dog inside?”

“Sorry, no,” I said, slightly muffled through my mask. “One of you will have to stay outside with her.” I glanced at the chihuahua wearing a pink tutu and then at the mother and son owners.

“Great!” the mother said and began gathering up her dog in her arms.

I wondered if they were able to tie the dog to the leg of the table next to me. I was brought back to reality as the mother held out the dog to me.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “She’s friendly.”

For the last three weeks, a new duty was added to the my job at the front desk. Not only would we be checking people in, but we also have to spend several days a week working as door greeters. The idea for the job is simple. Someone stands outside the door and counts people in and out with a tally counter. A second employee stands nearby and answers questions, so the counter doesn’t get distracted.

The above story was an incident from a few weeks ago, when we first started as door greeters. I was working a morning shift, when a mother and son came up with their dog and thought I was offering to hold her on my lap, while they went inside. Needless to say, I was startled. Luckily, they realized that I was not, in fact, willing to dog sit for them. Instead, one went in while the other stayed with the dog, much to my relief.

“You need to wear a mask inside the building,” our location manager said to two guests.

“We have a medical condition and we’re hungry.”

This was another day at the front door. I was answering questions off to the side, when I became aware of our location manager stopping a couple from walking in the exit door to avoid the line. The two wanted food and they cited a medical condition for not wearing them. This is not allowed for this year. If you want to go into the building, you have to wear a mask. But, what were these poor people going to do? They were refusing point blank to wear masks. The location manager headed inside, telling me to keep count of people going in and out, and went to find a Food and Beverage manager, who took their orders and payment outside. At least they got their food, even if they couldn’t step into the building themselves.

It is interesting watching human behavior as I monitor the doors. We can only let 120 people in at a time, not counting on duty employees. Most people will wait patiently in line, until I tell them they can go in. Then, there are people that try and walk in without waiting and sneak into other doors. They don’t want to wait like everyone else and try to make up some excuse over why we should like them in before everyone else. As far as I know, no employee has fallen for that yet.

I know this is a weird year and that everyone just wants the world to return to normal. I’m certainly ready for normal. Until then, I’ll just be a front desk agent and part time door greeter. Just, please remember, stay safe and well out there and no pets in the hotel.

Every author wants to be noticed. I am no exception. Like most people, I research authors, check out their books, and see what they’re up to. At the end of June, I was goggling an author named Christopher Paolini. You might have heard of him. He’s the author of the Eragon series. It’s a great series. It’s about a farm boy named Eragon and his bonded dragon partner Saphira going out to defeat an evil king who usurped the throne. During that time, I was talking to my mom on the phone and saying, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I wrote to him? I mean, I’m working in Yellowstone and he lives in Montana. A letter wouldn’t have to travel that far.” My mom’s response was, “Well? Why don’t you?”

That had me thinking. I had intended my comment as a joke, but my mom took me seriously. Maybe I should contact him. So, that’s what I did. I spent the next two days crafting a letter to Christopher Paolini. Once I was satisfied, I signed it and mailed it off, wondering if I would ever hear back. I did.

Last week, I was walking by the post office and decided to check, not really expecting anything. I actually found a response from Paolini! In my letter, I gave him a plot summary of Silver Rose and asked for writing and marketing advice. Paolini responded with the latter. He told me to get involved in a writing group so they could read and critique my work. I should also think about reading my work out loud, so I could hear what it sounded like. I’ve actually done that one before. It does help, because then you can catch awkward sentences and phrasing. Most importantly of all, Paolini congratulated on getting my book self published and wished me luck. Christopher Paolini really is a kind and helpful person. He probably gets hundreds if not thousands of fan letters a day. He could have ignored me, but instead chose to give advice to a newbie author. Thank you, Christopher Paolini. I really appreciated it.