I gave a lot of room about Misty and her adventures with the Bird Mafia and the slathering, enraged rabbits. Now I want to give equal booking to Callie, “The Lion Hearted”.

I believe Callie may be the embodiment of Tesla, but on steroids.

OK, she has nervous tendencies, but she is also very quiet, observant and intelligent.

Callie can talk and understand understand English, too. In fact, she is working on her second draft of a science fiction trilogy that I personally will be surprised if any editor picks it up. Said trilogy is an epic saga involving a race called the Mondorphians.  The Mondorphians look and act just like humans in every way, but they also have super-human abilities that most humans can never imagine. They have chosen our planet to hide on because it is in the back waters of a galaxy that is also in the back waters of the universe.  They are hiding from…wait, that isn’t the point. It’s her novel, and if she wants you to read it, she will publish it.

I just wanted to tell you why I think she is channeling Tesla. You know all about the Tesla Coil, and the incredible technologies he invented.   These inventions are the real reason we have cell phones and microwave ovens. Tesla simply wanted a faster way to make popcorn while he texted his BFF, Edison about American Idol.

It was storming very hard here, in the Megalopolis of Union, MO. Big hairy rain drops were falling all over the place. And the lightning could not only be seen, but could be felt.

My theory with Callie and Tesla was inspired when I was watching Callie gazing longingly out the back door, the very door whose threshold she faints at the idea of crossing. My theory is that she has perfected inter-dimensional portal transportation. She she must have gotten the idea from one of the Tesla books I left laying open.

I could clearly see she was anticipating something. Misty, could too, because she had to interrupt a yawn to see what was getting Callie so exited.

Callie’s breathing quickened, her tail twitching went into high gear, and she firmly placed her tiny, nervous little paws on the glass panes of the back door, as if she wanted a closer look at what was about to happen.

Then it happened.

A bolt of lightning hit our back yard. The flash filled the house. The air frissioned with ionization. A loud boom rattled everything in a one block radius.

All this happened in a nanosecond.

What also happened in that nanosecond is that, where Callie had been standing at the back door, was an outline of fur, gently floating to the ground where Callie had been standing. In that nanosecond of brightness, she vanished before my very eyes.

I have not seen her since.

I think she utilized Tesla knowledge, harnessed the power of the lightning, and crossed over into another dimension.

Spring brings a ton of activity to our back yard. We have squirrels, bunnies, and birds of all type and stripe. My cats are driven to near insanity trying to decide if stalking a bunny has the same merits as stalking a bird. The strange thing is, every time my cats go outside to stalk something, they come running in fear back to the house. At first, I thought that my cats were a bunch of sissies. I can justify that because one of my cats is afraid of her own shadow. She vanishes in a puff of fur at the least provocation. But that is where my theory breaks down. My other cat is not such a coward. Misty is a huge cat that might be related to the Russian Blue variety.

Misty is many things… large, voracious, heavy…her movements normally are measured in geological time. She never shows any expression other than “I need a nap”. I HAVE seen Misty chase things before, though. The transformation is miraculous. Here is this feline, roughly the size of a glacier, moving at speeds that most cheetah would envy. Nothing on earth moves so fast as Misty going to the food bowl. My point is, when sufficiently motivated, Misty can really move.  My back yard is full of motivation.

The other cat, Callie, will stick her nose outside, see a leaf move and die of shock immediately. Misty will languorously step over the prone body of Callie and see what the noise is all about. Birds will be all over the back yard (Mostly purple martins, Cardinals, Sparrow, and Oriole) . Misty is not afraid of animals.  When Misty looks through the glass back door, and sees an animal, she will begin to move in strides that are actually perceptible, and wander outside.  But THIS TIME, when she went outside, she came running back in with the same look of terror on her face as my other, naturally frightened cat will have.

I found this to be too strange. Being a researcher, and the normal adventurer that I am, I vowed to get to the bottom of things and see what could make a normally laconic cat, the size of a dirigible, use enough energy to actually express fright.

Plying all my skills as an investigator, I disguised myself as a small shrub and hid myself in plain sight of the beasties that roam the back yard. This is where I made several startling discoveries.

The big one is that my back yard is controlled by a Purple Martin Bird Mafia. I watched as Misty approached some shrubs. It was then that I overheard one of the Martins talking to another one,

“Duh..Boss, dere’s dat pesky, but rotund, cat again.”

To which the other Martin responded, “I got eyes aint I?”, “Ray Charles can see there is a monstrously huge cat trying to sneak up on us.”

Said the first bird, “Duh…whadda ya tink we should do, Boss?”

To which the other bird replied, “I’ll go see the Don about it. We have enough trouble wid da squirrels invadin our turf. It’s gettin to where da bunnies don’t want to pay dere ‘protection’ fees.” “We gotta show we ain’t so easily intimidated by some big lummox of a cat.”

So , that bird went to another bird. He kissed the feathers of that birds right wing and addressed him:

“Don Birdlioni, I am your humble servant coming as to inquire of what youse tink we should do to show we ain’t lettin no feline take over our territory.”

To which Don Birdlionni responded, “Guido Birducci, you are indeed a faithful servant and a good Boss to my men. I too have observed the feline, roughly the size of a 3 story house, attempting to impinge on our territory.” “This concerns me greatly. ”

The Don looked at the Red Headed Wood Pecker that hung out in the corner of the lot. This red bird was obviously the Consigliari, the adopted, but greatly trusted son of the Don. The Consigliari gave a subtle nod to the Don.

The Don said to Guido Birducci, “Here is what I want you to do.” “I recently did a favor for one of the bunnies. That Bunny understood that one day I might ask of him a favor in return.” “I want you, Guido, to go to that Bunny and remind him of my gracious gesture.” “Remind him that I need him to reciprocate on my generosity.” “Tell him to do this small gesture for me, and I will be happy”.

Guido Birducci flew over to the rabbit warren immediately.

A FEW MINUTES LATER:

Misty was controlling her breathing and her pace. As large as she was, she was remarkably silent. Imagine all her luck. Out of nowhere pops a baby bunny. What a prize. What a catch. She can capture it and bring it back to her clan and share it with her people, like any huntress would.

Mere inches separated her from her prize. This was the moment that would mean a tasty snack to round off her skimpy 3 bags of cat food a day.

She pounced.

Out of nowhere, several angry and slathering bunnies jumped out of the shrubbery and kicked the daylights out of the Misty. The squirrels, realizing they might be able to curry some favor with the Don, joined in the attack and chased Misty back indoors.

Now, all my cats will do is stare longingly outside through a closed door. And one lone Woodpecker will stare at the cats with a small, but menacing smile.

Millions of imaginary readers have flocked to this page to the point that scientists are working day and night to build a quantum server that runs on zero point energy, JUST SO I will no longer crash the DOD or NORAD, or Wall Street networks.  I encourage you to join.them. -DGP 

Aside from the millions of imaginary readers, I have yet to get any actual, live, human ones.

That’s OK because my imaginary fans keep throwing parties for me. Yes, they are imaginary parties, but they are a blast, and police have only had to come to my house once.

I love to write.

I love to research. I love to write about what I research.

In fact, the Federal Government was thinking about reading my blogs to terrorists being held at Guantanamo, as it causes nausea, vomiting, and bleeding from the ears.  However, the World Court, in Geneva, decided that this would be a bad idea as it goes beyond cruel and unusual punishment.

Personally, I was crushed. I was going to make a lot of money.

The government found out how effective my writing is when a courier, charged with picking up my writing and delivering it to a team of crack scientists, broke the rules and read my writing. He was found days later, sitting on a street corner, drooling, and spouting gibberish at passerby’s.  The government is sticking with water-boarding, as they do not have to pay my exorbitant royalty fees for each word I write.

So, I hope YOU, the intelligent and cautious reader, will get a lot more out of my blogs than that poor courier did.