Bakery Cats and Too Many Cinnamon Rolls

When Fuzz and Cami opened their bakery they were sure that their prize-winning cinnamon rolls were just what they needed. Their friends loved the cinnamon rolls and bought dozens of them when they had their grand opening last week.  Their family also loved the rolls with the fish flavored glaze. It was an old recipe from Great Grandma Gladys.
Yes, their first week at Slurp Bakery had gone by fast. It was Friday and the cats were looking forward to the weekend. Fuzz put the last batch of rolls in front of Cami so she could put the icing on. The sweet smell of butter and cinnamon filled the air.

It was a lovely morning in Pawston.  Fuzz and Cami watched the sun slowly rising from their storefront window.  Their business, Slurp Bakery, had been open for only one week. Fuzz was in charge of baking the delicious cinnamon rolls and keeping track of how much money they were making. Cami was in charge of decorating, cleaning, and making sure the customers were happy and kept coming back.

They decided that each Friday they would meet and talk about how things with their new shop were going.  "I'm disappointed." said Fuzz.  We have not made enough money from the cinnamon rolls to keep our shop open.  "These things take time Fuzz. Please put your report away now. It's our first customer of the day." replied Cami.  The store bell rang. Fuzz became an orange blur as he lurched for the kitchen. His tail knocked pages from his report onto the floor.

Melanie, a Doberman in a striking power suit, walked in.  She had come to Slurp Bakery once before. Hi Cami! I was wondering if you had anything other than cinnamon rolls today. My workers said they like doughnuts."

"Well, we don't have anything other than these rolls, but they have two different kinds of icing, creamy and fish flavored."

Melanie peered at the glass cases. "I see. Do you have rolls with chicken icing?" 

"No, sorry. This is all we have. Can I get you some fish rolls?" 

"No thank you. Do you know where I can get doughnuts on this side of Pawston. I don't want to go across town." 

"No. I'm sorry, I don't."  Cami's face reddened. Melanie left empty-handed with no wag to her tail.

"Okay Fuzz, she's gone." Fuzz sneaked out from his favorite hiding spot by the oven.  Cami continued. "I think I know what we need to do to help us to stay at this bakery." 
"Oh, what is that?" he asked.
"Melanie told me she works across the street and that they like doughnuts."
"But, we only have cinnamon rolls." said Fuzz.
"Right, do you think we could figure out a good doughnut recipe?"
"My Great Grandma Gladys doesn't make doughnuts." 
"Maybe we can make a new glaze for our rolls then." Cami offered.
"Why would we want a new glaze?" 
"Fuzz, there are a lot of dogs in Pawston and they want a chicken glaze."
"That is impossible Cami! We don't know how and we don't have the ingredients. It's true Melanie works across the street but that doesn't mean everyone will want doughnuts and chicken glaze.  Look, another customer is coming. We can talk about this later." Fuzz scampered back to his warm spot by the oven.
It was a shy, grey kitten with amber eyes. He pointed to a fish roll. "One, please." "Certainly" said Cami who was ready with her spatula. She scooped a gooey roll onto a paper plate. "Would you like this in a bag?" The kitten nodded. He looked in awe at the brown paper bag and smiled. "Thank you." "You're welcome." The kitten pounced out of their store.  Fuzz shouted from the kitchen, "See, I told you. Our customers want our rolls!"

Before Cami got the chance to argue with him, the store bell rang a large Boxer dog entered. "Hello Sir. What can I help you with today?" "Do you have any doughnuts?" "No I'm sorry Sir." Cami was getting frustrated. The dog was nice enough, but left Slurp without buying a thing.

Next, a fluffy white cat came in. It was one of Cami's friends who worked across the street. "Hi Pearl! What can I get for you?"
"Do you have any sandwiches? I'm really hungry and forgot to bring my lunch."
"No, sorry, we just have cinnamon rolls."
"Okay. I thought I'd check. I still like your rolls! Pearl waved and left without a bag.

Cami sulked. Fuzz felt sorry for his friend behind the register. "It's alright Cami. We'll do better next week." Fuzz scooped out one cream and one fish roll and began quickly eating his lunch. "Ugh, that's so gross to have for lunch Fuzz. Those are treats, not a meal!" She got out a brown paper bag and ate her tuna sandwich next to him. They didn't talk for the rest of their lunch.

They waited for the bell on the door to ring but all was silent. They watched workers walk by the storefront window on their lunch breaks. Fuzz opened the glass case again and served himself another two rolls. Cami shut the case and cleaned his hand print off the glass.

Her ears tilted back as she scrubbed. "Look at all these rolls! I am so mad! More people have asked for doughnuts than rolls. What can I say? No, get a roll. What's that Pearl, you want a sandwich? Too bad, get a roll! There are so many cinnamon rolls! ROLLS, ROLLS, ROLLS!"

Fuzz didn't know what to do. Whenever he didn't know what to do, he took a nap. He napped and napped. When he finally woke up, he felt refreshed. Now, he knew what to do. "Cami I'm going to take my afternoon break." "Fine." She thought the nap should have counted as his break but was too upset to argue.
When he came back, the doorbell jarred Cami awake from her own nap. Fuzz brought in bags and bags of groceries.  "What is all of this?" She asked. Fuzz held up some bread, cheese, and meats. "We can try a few changes to the menu and if they work...we can keep them. I got doughnut and sandwich ingredients. This is on one condition."  "What's that?"  "You have to let me eat whatever I want from the bakery."
"I promise, you can eat whatever you want. We can have doughnuts and sandwiches?"
"There are items to make chicken glaze too." He added.
Cami helped him unpack. "Thanks Fuzz. This will make our customers happy."
"It's only if it works! Our customers have to like the new items, you know?"
"I know." She was so happy she pranced around as she put the goods in a cupboard.
On Monday, Fuzz and Cami came in early and made rolls, doughnuts, and sandwiches. Cami spread the chicken glaze icing on a few of the rolls. They seemed to be selling a few more items day by day. By the time Friday came they were already much happier. They began their meeting. "Things are looking up." said Fuzz The doorbell surprised them. They baked so many items that morning, they almost lost track of time. "It's our first customer of the day." Cami announced.
"Hi Melanie." "Hi Cami. I'll have a cream roll. Wait, you have doughnuts?" "Yep." "I'll have one, make that two, dozen."
"Fuzz, I need your help."  They packed two bags full of doughnuts . "My workers will love these. Thanks." They thanked her. Melanie left with her tail wagging.
Then the shy little grey kitten with amber eyes came in. "I would like a fish roll."  "We now carry doughnuts and cheese or beef sandwiches. We also have chicken glaze." "Just the fish roll." said the crouching kitten. He batted at the bag a few times and then pounced out of the store.  Fuzz stayed in his warm spot next to the oven. He was half asleep, exhausted from all the baking he had done that morning.
The store bell rang again and in walked the large Boxer dog. He put his puffy cheeks up to the glass and sniffed around. "I smell doughnuts!" "Yep. Would you like one Sir?" "I'll have two." Cami put the two doughnuts in the bag. The dog's bobbed tail waved wildly back and forth.

Fuzz came out and helped himself to a fish roll snack. They had another cat customer. Next, Pearl came in and purchased a cheese sandwich for her lunch. She stayed and ate with Fuzz and Cami before heading back to work. 
"These new cheese sandwiches are wonderful!"  "Well, you baked them! They are better for you too. So, Fuzz, things are looking up?" "Yep, the new items are helping our bakery. We should be fine if we keep paying attention to what everyone wants. Just do me a favor." "What's that?" "Don't tell my Great Grandma Gladys!" They laughed.

The store bell kept ringing that afternoon.
 

 

 

What Gardens Teach Us about Life

I have learned a lot in the short time I've been gardening. In over a decade of apartment life; I had to find other outlets for tinkering with herbs, flowering bushes, plants, and trees. Now that I own a home and a yard there are plenty of places for my experiments. Gardens are a celebration. In a non-deliberate and often gentle way, they reflect their owner's personality. What do gardens teach us? I'll share a few of their lessons.

Life is beautiful:  I'm guessing blood pressure drops with exposure to fresh air or when entering a garden environment in general. Even if there weren't health benefits; gardens feed us in every way. If they weren't beautiful, we wouldn't need gardens around hospitals for patients, or recreational gardens with walking paths, and rose gardens.


Don't miss an opportunity:  An empty lawn is like a blank canvas. Before I became a novice lawn decorator, I saw a friend's empty backyard and our planning began. We framed her fence and edges all around with an array of perennials like roses, Russian sage, and lamb's ear. We loved to move plants to new spots to see how they would look aesthetically and how the plants would prosper or fill-out by the corner of the house, along and through the fence, or bordering the garage. Beginning with a few flowers, it spiraled into a full garden. It is a lot like moving furniture when you move plants- in that you can never quite tell how it will work until you try it in the new spot. When you get a garden thriving, the negative space becomes precious in both a utilitarian and ornamental fashion. The unused portions of the garden can guide the onlooker's eyes along the edges and back into the lush landscape.


Survival is fragile, even fickle:  Over 80% of gardeners attempt to plant tomatoes, which are native to the United States. Tomatoes are sturdy but not fool-proof. They need full sun and the right amount of water.  It isn't a plant you can entirely ignore.  Still, tomatoes are manageable. There are plenty of other plants that are finicky or strange or do not adapt well to other climate zones. I suppose people are not all that different from plants. Some are hardy, while others are delicate. Some are dependable while others are flighty; some are invasive while others keep to themselves. There are many varieties to choose from.


A little effort goes a long way:  Delicate plants can be fragile, while others are hard to pare down. If you've ever planted hostas, you know they'll just sit there as promised and come back ever year like clockwork. Daffodils, tulips, bleeding hearts, are similarly predictable. Lily of the valley and mint are both aromatic and love to spread. They need uprooting and restriction methods.


Nature relaxes us, even a little of it:  Bright colors are good for your brain and so is fresh air. By gardening you are going outside more. You're even burning more calories toting those pots, bags, and watering cans around. Besides these stress relievers, gardens teach us to plant and let go to a certain extent.  Not every plant is perfect or exact. 


Patience is a virtue:  When you aren't thinking about it your plants are outside growing. You find one day, your plants are changing how you wanted them to. For example, we have a newly-planted baby Magnolia tree adorning the front yard. It was planted at a tilted angle by the store's delivery service. With a tiny bit of staking and tying to guide it straight, it was a pleasant surprise when it was no longer leaning. Gardens are full of gifts and unexpected ongoings.


Your patience pays off:  In a garden, things are happening with or without you. Nothing is happening in a garden to a non-gardener. Maybe a butterfly passes by. The understanding that you encouraged the butterfly to live there goes missing. This year's new experiment is adding vegetables. I have never eaten anything from my own garden yet. Fresh food should not be a disappointment.


You have some control over your life:  There are about a million metaphors for planting, gardening, and watching life grow. As a gardener, you have the freedom to take what you are given and put it in this earth. You can swap and trade plants out with friends. You can gift tomatoes or rhubarb if you have a good yield. You can pick bouquets for your dining room table. Most importantly, you can do, or plant, precisely whatever you want.

Into Thin Air, Everest Book Review

Into Thin Air is to date the most popular book about climbing Mount Everest and that is intriguing considering it centers around one of the worst Mount Everest catastrophes ever.  While it's true that real life disasters will often draw a reading audience; the author who is chosen to document them is held up to certain standards like personal reliability, accountability, and responsibility.  This is particularly true concerning the tragedy presented in this story, where dreams for the price of several thousands of dollars are at stake.  As a survivor overcoming dangerous conditions, Krakauer's harrowing tale became a quick controversy when published.  Krakauer's experience with Mount Everest began in the spring of 1996, at the peak of what is known as the summit season.

As one picks this book up off the shelf it is likely that he or she might be judgmentally tempted to set it back down.  Yes, some audiences are drawn to tragedy but hoards of others settle for pick-me-up reads.  Another hurdle for a reader new to the nonfiction, adventure sports section is; why do people want to climb Everest?  These people must be nuts.  Krakauer, an outdoors man, tackles this immediately by sharing his own history and encounters with mountain climbing and hiking and his initial lack of enthusiasm when first confronted with this daunting proposition.  In the end, his decision to accept climbing Mount Everest was propelled by both a desire to report this cutting-edge opportunity as a journalist and a desire to continue furthering his athleticism.  There was a story to cover and his bid to climb would be paid for and expertly led by one guide, or another.

With the release of Into Thin Air, Krakauer's actions were not without criticism.  He had to pass by others in the death zone who were likely already consumed by their drunken, oxygen starved mental states.  He agonizingly details those moments as they occurred.  In the end, it is hard to accuse a survivor; one who could have just as easily lingered too long on the rooftop of the world only to stammer and freeze or stumble off. 

Jon Krakauer has an effortless ability to utilize quotes to preface chapters in a way that is both holistic and concise for the given chapters.  This book exhibits many of them and they are apt.  These quotes are derived from several climbing predecessors or legends, such as Eric Shipton and Sir Edmund Hillary, as they documented and examined their own unique conquests.  Included within them is the notion that the mountain has not changed much; only the methods used to summit it have.

Krakauer did respect the fallen as well as accentuate positive elements that existed before the deadly storm encapsulated them.  He paid tribute to the lost guides, Sherpas, and both expert and novice climbers.  Rest assured, if you haven't already read this book (and are entirely skeptical); after you read it you will not want to climb Mount Everest any more than when you first picked it up.  That is a relief. 

No matter how you read the book, Krakauer's encounter reminds us there will always be questions raised for the survivors in life or death situations where others' lives are lost.  In the end, our attention is drawn to the top of the mountain where two competing, seemingly-expert guides never escaped the freezing storm as it worsened before their eyes, looming in front of each step.  It is hard to forget them.  It is difficult to put down a book that both celebrates the passion and drive of these mountaineers as it simultaneously exposes their folly in overextending and misjudging their own abilities or mental states.  This was their final attempt at achieving greatness by reaching the top of the world. 

Ten Hazards of Writing

Here is a satirical chart on the ten most dangerous obstacles that writers face today.  This list includes a threat level scale number.  One is not too hazardous and ten is so hazardous that you will need to find a solution.

1.  Retina Damage:  Coffee + reading and writing all day= eyes sticking shut.  When I began profusely writing again; I didn't think this would be an issue.  Get a pack of eye drops, you'll be fine, I told myself.  I was wrong.  If you are prone to migraines or belong to several social media networks the severity of this hazard will undoubtedly increase.

Threat level: 10 because it is hard to read or write without your eyes if you are used to using them!

2.  Flip-Flopping:  Either you or your character is making an opinion on a topic.  All of the sudden, you realize that you or your character has drastically changed their opinion or become out of character midway through.  How did this happen?  Was it by having too many counter arguments or playing both sides of an issue?   The worst thing that can happen is if you change the way you perceive a topic.  Let's entertain the notion that you have completely changed your mind about a topic you previously wanted to address .  A complete flip-flop in point of view will require either massive rewrites or an entirely new topic. Thankfully, this usually occurs only on the small-scale. 

Threat level:  This is a 7, depending, because you can revise this.  The negative is that if it keeps happening you might need a new topic altogether.  On the opposite end, if it's a trivial character's flip-flop, not your own, it might only be a 2.

3.  Junk Writing:  You're on overdrive but you want to meet your writing deadline(s).  You produce something that is unsatisfactory.  Runners call this type of plowing-onward action "junk mileage".  This translates and is something all its own.  Akin to when runners over-train themselves in logging junk mileage; this action can lead to multiple hazards or injuries.  A writer's injuries can include flip-flopping or changes of voice that might not have otherwise occurred under less-rigid deadlines.

Threat level:  An unavoidable 6. There's no quick fix. However, with this junk you acquire some building-blocks and pieces that can be adapted into your final written-work.

4.  Character Voice:  This is not to be confused with your overall narrating technique, or stylistic voice.  At some point in your story, like flip-flopping, you realize there is an unintentional inconsistency in the presentation of one of your characters.  It's in their dialogue.  Did a character from Texas forget his or her twang?  Consistency is key.  Perhaps, the character was supposed to be a teenage boy and came out sounding like a raspy old man in a conversation.  What ever the case may be, your character needs to stay his or herself. It is unlikely they aged sixty years unless you followed this character over a large time period.

Threat level:  A simple 4.  Voice is typically easier to rewrite than flip-flopping assuming you have a thorough knowledge of your characters.

5.  General Paranoia:  Reasons aside, you're to some degree introverted.  You have a lot of time to yourself when you're writing.  You lead a quiet life, others tell you.  There are times you're not shy and times that you are.  However, as you write you notice the "quietness" is slowly leaving your life after others read it because they are an audience.  As much as you want to close yourself off; opening yourself up through your characters is inevitable for good writers.  It is.  You're providing a worthwhile concept and your audience is appreciative.  The more people who read your work and the more you open yourself up; the more you unintentionally begin some delusional thinking.  It's instinct.  You envision a chilling scene from Misery. You imagine people or things inhibiting you from writing.

Threat level: Unpredictable at best. This is a 2-3 if it is no real concern, as in you've only thought of it once. The solution is, of course, to shake off the nightmare mentality.  If you are a bestselling author this will be more difficult and the "paranoia" may be more of a legit concern.

6.  Entertainment Deprivation:  Yes, your writing is its own entertainment.  You are human though and boredom wears many hats.  You are having to sacrifice some time spent with your friends or family.  You might need to DVR your favorite television show or movies.  In fact, they are practically full in the recording line-up because you haven't had the opportunity and won't watch them any time soon.  Luckily, you love writing.  It never occurred to you to count reading in the mix because you can't go without that for long.  Although, truth be told, you sometimes put that on hold as well to meet writing deadlines.

Threat level: This is a 2-3. Once you finish that deadline, you'll find that Kindle or remote. Right, Right?!

7.  Physical Breakdown or Carpal Tunnel:  It's not your eyes; it's that one shoulder.  Your back hates sitting.  Maybe you need a rest but you're not finished yet.  Now you're just hoping you can keep your specific physical ailment at bay.  As you type the last word of the day, your fingers curl and resign into a gnarly, knotted mass, not unlike tree roots.

Threat level: This varies with age and specific condition.  Anyone above 30 will likely be over the 5 point mark.

8.  Inner Narration:  You thought all the mental awkwardness was gone because you've passed the stage of General Paranoia. Well, think again. Now you're just trying to enjoy an evening with friends and you realize you might have described that restaurant you are all going to with way too much precision.  Perhaps, it was laden with detail.  Either way, someone noticed before you could catch it and threw a glance your way.  Time to tone it down?   If you're in good company; friends or family might react the other way and enable your harmless narrating shenanigans.  They might even join in.  This is when your excessive inner narration shines outwardly.

Threat level:  If you're walking down the street muttering to yourself; you're an 8.  If your friends join in you're down to a 5 or below.  Pare down your narrations when you can.  You'll still have muttering in your mind which comes with its own set of issues like daydreaming and "forgetting" what others just told you.

9.  Relationships:  Remember all those writing deadlines that kept you from television?  Now, they are running over into your personal life a smidgen.  You family and friends miss you and not in a social media "miss you" way.  Okay, so your social media friends do truly miss you.  At any rate, the ones that are there for you, the humans, genuinely need your attention.

Threat level:  If you have kids under 18; your rate is automatically over 5.  Your rate with relationships depends mostly on how much contact and presence you demand or need. 

10.  Deja`vu:  You're writing is finished for the time being.  You sit down to watch one of those movies from your overstocked line-up.  The movie is a new release, a box-office smash.  Yet, you sense something familiar.  It might begin like deja` vu until you realize that in the movie it's your setting location and two of your character's names from your novel.  Then you write an article and find a few of the ideas are already "out there".  Of course there is a chance that some of your ideas are already out there somewhere.  This world had lots of people with lots of fascinating ideas crammed in their brains.  Plus, add the cliche` that "great minds think alike".  You'll just have to get over it.  Yes, I know, we are all still unique little snowflakes.

Threat level:  It depends on the amount of repetition and the type.  Was the plot or theme completely taken and thus tanked.  Or did the writer, author, or artist take your idea and put a separate spin on it?  Once you get a few overlapped ideas on one piece of writing you are at about a 4.  It is correctable.  Revise and re-word where necessary.  Writers have various subjects to unravel and methods of doing such.  Repetition can be odd, but, turnabout is fair play.  Bear in mind exceptions like carbon-copies or possible legal issues.  Luckily, these are rare. 

Spring Haiku and Haiku Riddles

Writing haiku is an excellent practice for transforming your ideas and concepts into a few concentrated words.

Here are a few spring and summer inspired haiku:

March and hear the slosh 

Children dance at winter's end

drumming up flowers

The first flowers grow-

bright violets and daffodils

spring up from the rain

 

How long does it take-

leaf-crunching caterpillar

to unfold and fly?

Bushes of roses
the bumblebee moseys through
abundant bounties
 

 

These are literary haiku riddles. Guess the author, book, or character they are written about.

Explosion of jazz

recklessness and wealth excels

overindulgence

 

Young man in sorrow-

run away with me sister

everyone is fake

 

They make me burn books

I can't do it anymore

store them, keep them safe

 

Found a shiny thing

I took it from some creature-

back to simple life

 

If you pee blue-green

don't take the meds they give you

you will be sterile

I'm a prankster boy
I see my own funeral
friends gawk, family weeps

Love conquers, divides
our families are enemies
eternally young

Troubled southern town
Justice waiting on your wings
child's epiphany
 

Paul Simon Quotes

 Paul Simon deserves his own quote page.  He not only has a melodic voice, but is a savvy lyricist as well.  Enjoy these quotes; I think some of them will increase in popularity in years to come.


Sometimes I see your face as if through reading glasses and your smile seems softer than it was.


We've survived by believing our life is going to get better.


Listen to the sounds of silence.


Who am I to blow against the wind?


If you can get humor and seriousness at the same time, you've created a special little thing, and that's what I'm looking for because if you get pompous, you've lost everything.


You want to be a writer, don't know how or when?  Find a quiet place, use a humble pen.


I've got nothing to do today but smile.


You know the nearer your destination the more you're slip slidin' away.


Losing love is like a window in your heart, everybody sees you're blown apart, everybody feels the wind blow.


And after it rains, there's a rainbow and all the colors are black. It's not that the colors aren't there; it's just the imagination they lack. Every thing's the same back in my little town.


Home is where my thought's escaping. Home is where my music's playing. Home is where my love lies waiting silently for me.


I'm more interested in what I discover than what I invent.

Happy Blue Cat Day!

One chilly morning in January, two tabby cats laid in the warm sunshine coming from a large deck window.  Fuzz looked up at the ceiling, his round belly turned up. He licked his orange fur again and again until it was perfectly straightened and clean.

He perched himself on a dining room chair trying to collect his cat thoughts for a few moments.  His favorite toddler Lily came charging out from the living room demanding his attention.  Lily stood with her arms wide apart and her voice rang out.  "Happy Blue Cat Day", she confidently informed Fuzz.  He looked at Lily tilting his head and then lowered himself to the floor.   

Fuzz was shocked.  Blue Cat Day, why hadn't he heard of this?  He looked at his own family suspiciously.  Did his owners forget this holiday?  Did they know about it at all?  They had enjoyed both winter holidays and there was still one left!  That was it!  Now that all the holidays were over, they simply got confused and must have neglected the most important holiday of all- the holiday for cats.  He had to find out how to celebrate Blue Cat Day.

Fuzz decided something must be done about this most important turn of events.  He immediately called to order a cat meeting in the hallway.  "Mew, meow" he called his friend Cami to join him.  Fuzz lurched to his central spot near a closet door.  As President of the OCB, Official Cat Business, he made sure he had the best seat in the house.  The Official Cat Business meeting was now underway. 

The OCB position for Cami was Vice President.  She quickly leaped to her spot beside the basement door; she took her role very seriously.  Cami, a beautiful brown tabby with piercing green eyes, was fearless, lean, and delicate.  Fuzz didn't see her arrive, she just appeared. "Mew" she answered.  Cami noticed Fuzz had an urgent expression on his face.  Still, he took a moment to straighten his whiskers.  Fuzz began, "It seems our family may have forgotten a special holiday, one for us cats to celebrate."  "Hum, a special holiday now?  It's a week after New Year's!" She lowered her emerald green eyes at him.  Cami was wise, beyond her eight years.

She knew to question Fuzz as he had recently seemed bored and had been calling many meetings.  He called meetings because he was hungry.  He had meetings about how to encourage the family to pet them and give them more attention. Fuzz even had meetings because he was irritated and wanted to squabble.  "Yes! The toddler knows of a holiday today that is called Blue Cat Day", Fuzz continued.  "Blue Cat Day, are you sure? I have never heard of such a thing as a blue cat. What could Lily be talking about?"  Cami was puzzled.  "She seemed quite confident when she told me the news." Fuzz insisted.  "What could blue cat mean, Fuzz? I have met many kinds of cats. There are no blue ones." 
She knowingly licked her paw. 

"I know, that is the one part I don't understand. However, a celebration of cats makes complete sense", Fuzz insisted.  "Meow, exactly", Cami agreed.  "What do you suggest as a course of action to take?" Fuzz asked.  "You ask me, but you are President", said Cami.  "Yes, but you are the alpha cat", he replied.  "Agreed. The course of action will be to sneak around and find out what Blue Cat Day means. Then, we should question the family leaders as to their lack of involvement."  Cami was settled and happy with herself. 

The cats immediately went to their new tasks.  They saw their two family leaders in the living room.  Fuzz jumped onto a sofa and Cami sat on a bookcase.  They watched and watched as nothing happened.  Their owners sat there fixed on the television.  Suddenly, Lily came into the room toward Fuzz and again announced, "Happy Blue Cat Day".  The two family leaders laughed.  Cami gave a slight head nod of approval to Fuzz.  His story was matching up.  They drew closer to their family owners. 

Cami stared unflinching at the man, Jake.  Fuzz closed in on the woman, Natalie, also staring as he purred loudly.  "What's up guys, do you need food?" Natalie guessed.  Fuzz stopped purring and stared more fiercely than before.  "Are you two worried about Blue Cat Day?" Jake asked.  Jake and Natalie laughed.  Cami nudged Jake several times.  Fuzz purred louder.  "Happy...Blue Cat Day", exclaimed Lily.  Toddler Lily was thrilled as she got a blue crayon out of her box and began looking through her animal coloring book.  "Meow. She is making us decorations for our party", Fuzz told Cami.  Cami locked eyes with Fuzz in agreement.  "Well, I guess we could celebrate it", said Natalie. 

The cats relaxed.  All their hard work was coming to life before their eyes!  "Let me get you two some of your special food."  Natalie petted them as they argued a little over who could have the most of the tender morsel treats to eat.   They speedily licked the delicious sauce out of the dish.  They paused only to clean up the tasty spots that had splashed from the dish onto the fur of their heads and faces.  They discovered there was a celebration of cats today.  Fuzz and Cami were relieved.  They had almost lost the opportunity to celebrate being a cat.  After they had finished every last morsel, they continued to look out the window for the mysterious blue cat that made their holiday. They wondered when and if they would see one.  They spent the rest of the day getting much more attention and pettings from Jake and Natalie than usual.  Fuzz and Cami were satisfied.