Posts Tagged ‘cat’

Video: “Don’t Call Me Fluffy” — flash fiction

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010


WORDS
My short-short fiction piece, “Interview with a cat: Don’t call me Fluffy” has proven to be popular story.

AUDIO
So after the story appeared (above), I made it into a Podcast/Audio clip.

VIDEO
Yet, maybe some out there would like to watch the cat face and listen, so now I have made it as a one shot video story.

Yep, stories come in all sorts of packaging around here.

Enjoy, and endure. Thanks for reading, seeing, listening. And leave a comment!

AUDIO–Don’t Call Me Fluffy: Interview with a Cat

Monday, June 28th, 2010



Just a little while ago I wrote and posted a short-short story (read HERE) about a cat complaining about human behavour towards his person.

It has been one of the more popular stories that I’ve posted. So I thought I’d start recording and posting some of my favorites and reader favorites from the “Noses in the House” stories.

And we’re starting with pissed-off Fluffy: Listen (and/or download) here: Don’t Call Me Fluffy!

It’s less than four minutes.

Enjoy and thanks for dropping by. Don’t forget to leave a comment below!
Vincent

Story – A cat dies

Saturday, November 7th, 2009


In 2003, a cat I shared the house with died. I wrote a short piece about its last days. Later I turned it into a dramatic  monologue I directed for the theater. Here’s the words, & a link to the monologue.
This morning the cat, Tanit, twelve years of bad character and weird behavior, was found when Monique went to get the vacuum cleaner in the veranda and I heard her scream. Kitty was dead in the corner of the veranda, laying hidden between the stove and the wall, behind inert domestic equipment. She’d been dead a day or two, one side of her flat from lying in the same position. Eyes open, goop having leaked from them.
She had had a tumor diagnosed at the beginning of the summer. She limped and stumbled toward her death. Carefully moving in the garden from one stone slab to the next, sometimes listing sideways, her usually adroit paws colliding with one another, once ending up on her side in the corgette plants.
She would get up, knowing something was dreadfully wrong, and move on. She panted on, lying under the fir tree when it was too hot, going from one spot to another, usually avoiding the sun, whereas in days gone by she was always trying to follow the sun, gather its warmth, bathe in it.
The last Saturday of her life we had a ten people over for lunch in the garden, and she had joined us, being socialable, rubbing and even eating, with relish, some bits of beef I gave her. I could see her eating the dropped morsels with gusto, then, during a good gnaw the sixth piece, suddenly she froze, her eyes figuring, the pain there, a sudden loss of appetite, and she turned and walked into the neighbor’s bushes, and sat, then lay down in the shade, unmoving. During lunch, I had picked her up and laid her emaciated body across my two palms and showed her to everyone. She did not move; she had purred.
Now flies land on her corpse, and scamper toward her eyes, to suck on those unblinking orbs.
*******
That was the original bit I wrote.  Five years later, I turned it into a monologue. If you watch the video of it I made here.
Close listening will reveal that some textual changes were made. Nearly always necessary for spoken text adapted from prose meant for reading. Much of it is the same, however, with only the names have been changed to protect…