Monthly Archives: February 2015

The No Cat Zone: how people and animals are alike

The culprit.

The culprit.

“Jerry, I have a sign on the door that states ‘No Cats!'”

“Yes, I know. But this is where they want to be. I just can’t say no to them.”

I implemented the “no cats” ban in my office soon after I noticed threads dangling off the side of my brand new recliner; the Charlotte La-Z-Boy I bought last summer. I made the deduction right away that one of my cats, or both, thought the chair served very nicely as a new scratching post.

I posted the sign on my office door right after that. Taking a scrap of paper and scrawling “No Cats” with a black Sharpie pen, I imposed my ban. I knew the cats wouldn’t pay attention to it, but I hoped Jerry might. In the meanwhile, I covered my new chair with an ugly cream-colored blanket in the event a cat decides to slink in without my knowledge.

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Taking Walks Where the Wild Things Are

(Warning: the following info is on my author page. But in case you haven’t gone back to that page, thought I’d share.)

 Author bio, Bronwyn Wilson

Missionary to the coffee-deprived; seeker of humor in everyday life; slave to two cats; passionate gardener, writer, traveler, shoe-shopper, lover of walks where the wild things are, like egrets and great blue herons.

 

Butchart Gardens in Victoria, B.C. feels like wandering inside a beautiful painting. My favorite spot in the world.

A visit to Butchart Gardens in Victoria, B.C. feels like wandering inside a beautiful painting. My favorite spot in the world.

 How my life calling as a writer began:

I wrote my first novel in the fourth grade, an edge-of-your seat story titled, When Baby Goes A Strollering. I stole the title from a magazine advertisement. My story opens with 10-year-old cub scouts hiking past a house and suddenly noticing flames spewing from the windows. With no concern of their cub scout uniforms getting singed, the twins sprint into the burning home and rescue a baby girl. My paperback novel had a cover made of construction paper with magazine cut-out illustrations. I never sent it to a publisher or showed it to anyone other than my mom, (and so the world missed out on this, my first literary work).

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The Mental Anguish I Caused My Husband

I often daydream

Oh noooo! I lost my ring!”

“What? What ring?” Jerry asks puzzled.

“My anniversary ring.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure. It was here with my other rings and now it’s gone.”

Jerry looks at my rings carefully, one by one, to make sure I didn’t overlook it among the others. “Is this it?” he asks holding up a cheap costume ring, which by the way I got on sale for a very good price.

“No, that’s not it. You remember it, don’t you? You bought it for me for Christmas because I had wanted it for our anniversary and you didn’t buy it then. We made payments on it for a long time.”

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