Getting There: How I Learned to Love Dragons And Crazy, Talking Cats

Tuesday

“It was the best of times … it was the worst of times …” Andi read aloud the beginning of her essay as she stood in front of the creative writing class. There were groans among her classmates and the worst was from teacher, Bob Blevins.

“You couldn’t come up with a better opening line than copying from Dickens?” He griped.

Andi cleared her throat to declare, “I like Dickens.” She continued to read, although, her voice was rough with emotion. “Yesterday was both the best and the worst day ever.” She shifted from one Doc Martin clad foot to the other, and scrunched her shoulders around her ears as she read, “The worst news … my cat Petunia Bud … died yesterday—” laughter erupted and she eyed the class dolefully, but stubbornly then read, “and the best was, I guess, it was my birthday—”

Mr. Blevins interrupted, “Are you reading this as you wrote it or telling us?”

A swath of curly dark hair fell over an eye as she held back tears. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she mumbled, “I wrote it.”

Blevins arose from his chair, his large belly jiggled as he stepped to the chalkboard. He nudged Andi. “Sit down. Class, this is pitiful. I want to show you how …”

Amid the dusty explanation, she scrambled hastily to her chair in the rear of the classroom, followed by laughter and remarks. Dane Johns, thrust out a foot to trip her, instead, she trod hard on his Converse clad foot. He yelped and then swatted her behind.

“Nice pink socks, bony butt!” Dane mocked.

She spat back, “They’re crimson!” then ignored the teacher’s admonishment for quiet, to sit glumly at her desk. She shuffled her essay into her notebook, disappointed that she didn’t read more than a few sentences. She was proud of her work for the week. While she had procrastinated most of the last two weeks on writing the essay, it wasn’t from lack of time or creativity, it was more a thing of apathy. Her life was boring. Rarely did anything happen or even something good occur. This week’s essay was to be about a remarkable day in her life. Yeah, right.

Heaving a sigh, she cradled her chin on a fist, as she looked about the bored class occupants, while Mr. Blevins droned on about creating ‘remarkable beginnings to pull in the reader, then whack them over the head’. Wishing she could whack him over the head, she sniffled, still sad for the previous bad day and now her embarrassment in the class. She began to drift off thinking over yesterday.

Monday

“Andrea June! Get down here and clean up this mess!”

Andi stood in front of the dresser mirror in her room, finding it difficult to decide between the dark purple short-sleeved sweater and black jeans or the black knit shell sweater with little skulls woven into it. She had matching star dangle earrings or tiny silver skull posts to wear. A pile of discarded outfits on her bed and floor mingled with her dirty laundry.

Mom yelled again, this time from the foot of the stairs. “Hurry up! You gotta feed your animals before school. Chop! Chop!”

Now that she was losing her temper, Andi struggled into the skull sweater. However, she raced to her bedroom door, and yelled out, “I will Mom! I’m getting dressed!”

“I don’t care if you are naked as a jaybird, get down here, now! It stinks!”

“Fine!” She screamed back and exiting, slammed her door shut, making the orange ’Keep Out’ sign fall off the door. She re-hung the sign then stamped down the stairs, creating as much noise as she could and then let out a groan for the smelly pile of dog poop on the hall floor.

“Why is it only me who cleans up ca-ca?” She growled coming into the kitchen, where her little brother and elder sister were eating breakfast.

“Because, you wanted the filthy beast.” Her father replied with his nose glued to his I-pad, while tapping out some obscure message. His breakfast already devoured he continued to work.

Always busy, always working even when home, Rick Fallon rarely gave Andi or anyone his full attention, unless someone messed up. This morning it was the dog, Snickers, who was in trouble. He stood outside mournfully looking in the window. His large, muddy feet gripped the windowsill, while his wet nose made grimy dog doodles on the glass.

“Get off the counter, PB!” Mom grabbed up the tiger-striped cat and tossed her out the back door.

Snickers took off after the cat, chasing her into the elm tree in the yard.

“Mom!” Andi squealed, “She can’t stay out there, she’s in heat!”

“Andrea, if you want all these animals, you should either train them better or keep them outside. Snickers already tracked in mud. So, you can also wash the floors when you get home from school today. Rick, be sure you tell the gardener to re-program the sprinklers.” Mom admonished.

Rick made no comment other than a beleaguered sigh.

Andi sat at the table to ask, “Are there more pancakes?”

“If you are late to breakfast, you get what you get.” Mom scolded.

Sister Brook ate the last bite of her pancake and smiled cattily at Andi. “Oh, poor widdle Andi-Wandy …” She scoffed. She wore scarlet lipstick and her maple-syrup-colored hair in a high ponytail tied with a red ribbon. Brook looked too well put together for a Monday morning.

Andi grabbed up the box of granola from the counter and poured out some in a bowl. She moodily picked out the raisins and granola nuggets, nibbling on them. She looked at her brother Matt, noticing he wore a milk-ring and had dripped syrup on his shirt.

“You look a mess, kid.” She sniped at him.

He just grinned like a monkey at her. “You got dishes duty today, too.”

“Man!” Andi sighed, annoyed. Everyone else was finished, getting up and dumping the dishes on the counter. “Mom, I have try-outs in drama club this afternoon. So, can I please trade with Brook and—”

“No can do. I have cheerleader practice.” Brook snagged up her pink striped backpack and sashayed out; her curvy butt, tanned bare legs, and big boobs in her scarlet and white sweater and tiny skirt, made her look like a life-sized Barbie.

“You know, you can’t stay after today, we have things to do.” Mom said briskly as she kissed Andi on the cheek. She dropped a sack lunch in front of her on the table. “See you at three-forty-five. I’ll be home early, with Brook in tow.” She scooped up her purse and coffee travel cup following Dad to the front door.

“Andrea! Clean up the poop!” Dad hollered.

Andrea peeked in her lunch sack and groaned, “Not bologna again!” She yelled at the slamming door, “I’m a vegetarian, Mom!”

Silence reigned like a vacuum in deep space. She glanced up at the rooster clock on the kitchen wall noting she had twenty minutes to get to school. She grabbed up a banana, apple, and a granola bar, and dropped them in her lunch sack. She went outside to call Snickers and PB for their breakfast. Snickers came but PB was in the tree. She dumped some dog chow in the yellow lab’s bowl then filled his water dish with the hose. Keeping a couple of tidbits for PB, she tossed the bologna sandwich on the chow. “Have fun, Snickers.”

“Hey, baby, I got treats” she cajoled to the cat while standing below and peering up into the tree. “Come on down, I don’t have all day, PB.”

PB only yowled back at her.

“I got baloney …” she waggled the limp piece.

PB settled on the limb, tucking her tail about her body and closed her eyes.

“Man, this is sucky. Fine, you be good today. Don’t get knocked up. Mom will really scream if you have kittens.”

Andi returned to the kitchen and hastily shoved the dishes and gloppy pancake pitcher in the sink, poured water, and detergent over it all leaving the mess to soak. She grabbed some paper towels and dashed to pick up the poop. Gagging, she tossed the smelly mess in the downstairs toilet and flushed. She watched the water swirl about and rise in the bowl.

“Oh, oh!” She stepped back as water neared the rim. Slamming the bathroom door behind her, she complained, “Of course, it happens to me, not Dad who spends an hour in there unloading nuclear bombs, or Matt, who flushes his army men. It’s my birthday today, stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen to me. I want a better life!”

Angrily, she yanked on her purple backpack, with the myriad of colorful zipper pulls in the shapes of skulls, cats, and stars. She checked the locks and left the house.

The last bus out of the neighborhood rounded the curve towards school. She ran full out, knowing she might catch it two streets west, if she jumped a fence, crossed the Peavey’s yard, and skirted the Baptist church’s parking lot. “Maybe I can make it.”

She ran until she got a stitch in her side. She watched with dismay as the belching diesel bus drove away. Some idiot waved at her from the back end, but the bus didn’t slow down.

“I have a sucky life.”

She trooped the remaining long four blocks to school, and missed going to her locker as the bell rang. One more bell and she would be late then it was detention city! Andi slid into her seat just as the last bell jangled. She looked up to see Scott Bays slip in the door.

Chemistry teacher, Carol Stuart handed him a yellow slip as he passed her desk. “Late. See me after class, three times and you’re out, buddy.” She turned about to the class.

The red-faced, Scott dropped into his seat ahead of Andi. He coughed and slapped down the tardy slip, saying a foul word.

He dropped his book pack on the floor and leaned back in the seat. “Cut me a break, b-yatch,” he grumbled.

Andi could smell the sweat on him. Heat radiated off his damp blue shirt. He must have been running to get here.

“I barely made it too. She didn’t mean it.” Andi whispered in consolation.

“I don’t give a—” he didn’t finish as Miss Stuart barked, “Quiet! Everyone turn to page one-thirty-two.”

She looked sharply at Andi and Scott, “Since you two want to chat, come up here and assist in today’s lesson, please.”

Complaints were not tolerated; they earned more punishment, like cleaning the chalkboards, or washing the glass Petri dishes and flasks, or cleaning the rat cages. Scott insolently leaned against the counter as Miss Stuart set up the exercise for the day. She worked around him as he glowered at her. When she bent to take things out of a cupboard, he turned around and aped a stupid face at the class, whereby kids laughed.

Miss Stuart’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at Scott then Andi. She began the exercise.

Andi was glad, she wasn’t too nervous today, the powder she added to the flask would have bubbled over without her steady, slow hand. Scott though, spilled the bottle of liquid over the counter while trying to pour it in his flask. The counter began to steam. Noxious vapors arose as the flask bubbled over, along with laughs and complaints of the foul odor.

Carol swept the mess off the counter into the steel sink and rinsed it down. Her lecture about mixing the proper amounts, in the correct order, along with patience and diligence went out the window, as she opened the windows and door of the noisy classroom.

Andi and Scott returned to their seats. She whispered to him, “I did my part right. What’s the matter with you, today?”

He shrugged and hunched down in his seat. “Leave me alone.”

“Fine. But I won’t take a Fail because of your ham-fisted mess.”

“Shut up.”

Andi withdrew with a pout and morosely fell back in her seat to follow along in the book.

Chemistry class over, Andi slipped past Scott and raced away to her locker. She wanted to comb her hair and put on the purple glitter lip-gloss she bought last weekend. She twisted the combination dial until the locker clicked, and yanked it open. She thrust her chemistry book in, took out the American history textbook, and shoved in her lunch sack. She combed her hair then had barely smoothed gloss on her lower lip, when Scott hit the locker door with a fist—it slammed shut.

“Hey! You, meanie! What—”

“Yeah? Sue me, Dork.” He continued barreling down the hallway, striking lockers at random.

Jason and Peaches came along, they were as usual, joined at the hip, always kissing whenever they could or walking with their hands in each other’s pockets.

“Who dumped on his day?” Jason queried and wrapped his arm around Peaches.

Peaches remarked, “He looked like a zombie this morning on the bus. He got on and didn’t say anything, just growled at everyone. That isn’t right.”

Andi peered at the hulking boy as he hit the exit door with more force than needed; it flew open as he stormed out. “He was late. Miss Stuart gave him a tardy.”

Jason pursed his lips in thought and stroked his chin in a Sherlock Holmes gesture. “Hm, maybe that set him over the edge. There could be a murder afoot here.”

Peaches swatted Jason. “You’re goofy. I think he’s just being a typical jerk.” Flipping her straw-colored hair over her shoulder, she spun on her heel. “Let’s go, we’ve got history, Andi.” She blew a kiss to Jason as he went the other direction to geometry class.

Andi ignored the chatty Peaches as they speedily walked, taking the stairs to their history class. They settled in but Andi was thoughtful and bothered by Scott’s behavior this morning.

Usually, he was a cut-up in class. Tall, well made, a real hunk, spiced with humor and inane jokes, he was everyone’s class clown and friend. Junior Varsity Basketball captain, wrestler, an all-out jock, everyone knew Scott Bays was destined for a big-league college like UCLA, or maybe even the LA Clippers. Rumor mills loved to talk about handsome, dark-haired Scott. That also included his love life as much as how many baskets he scored in a game. There were two Face Book pages devoted to him by some of his fans, a pair of cheerleaders. He was normally one of the Campus Gods.

Disenchanted with him today Andi murmured, “Today, he’s an ogre.” She doodled on her notepaper, making extra scrubby lines for dark eyebrows and scratched longer uneven teeth on ‘Scott the Ogre’.

They had been friends since she was in second and he was in third grade. He had once rescued her from the Monkey Bar Bullies. Somewhere along the way, he surpassed her, leaving Andi in the dust of former circles of friends, as he soared ahead. Still, she went to his games and wrestling matches, she cheered for him, and sometimes tutored him when they had classes together.

He still affectionately called her ‘Dork’ since she was ‘bookish’ and lately she was ‘Boob-less’.

She glanced down at her flat chest, as her mother described it, ‘two raisins on cardboard’. She couldn’t help it that both Sandra Fallon and Brook, inherited Grandma Regina’s ‘Roman Goddess Figure’ genes.

Yeah, there were times, people not knowing her just called her “Kid” or “Hey, you!” rather than a girl or Miss. At the age of thirteen when her friends all grew boobies, she got zits. She then began to wear glasses too, which she rarely wore, because she didn’t want to look like a four-eyed, freakish skinny dweeb. It was bad enough to look like a boy, but to be an invisible freak was the pits. She just tried to blend into the background most times.

As this morning already proved, she was not valued or loved like her popular sister Brook or brother, Matt. They were good-looking, while she still looked like a gawky thirteen-year-old. At least the zits stopped last year. The last two years she had worn her long hair covering most of her face to hide the acne. She rarely spent time looking in the mirror, knowing she was not beautiful like Mom or Brook, and hated herself for it. No guys ever looked her way either, unless it was to tease her. Scott Bays had been her only male friend. Now it looked as though she had lost him too. The circle of her friends was dwindling.

The morning went by in a blur of missed chances to speak with Scott. Peaches, the airhead, forgot it was her birthday and vowed they would go shopping on the weekend for something ‘fabulous’. In Spanish class, they sang ‘Los Cumpleaños’ to her. Senora Diaz, her teacher, gave Andi a “Día de los Muertos” skull cookie to celebrate. It was a hard cookie decorated with swirls and flowers—it was also a leftover from their Halloween party last week. The rest of the class snacked on piñata candy from the party. Try speaking Spanish with a mouth full of caramel!

Andi wrapped the cookie in a tissue and put it in her backpack. She wanted to draw a copy of it and maybe embroider the design on a black t-shirt. It was a cool design. Too bad, she was chicken; it would also make an awesome tattoo.

Lunch was a dud. She sat alone, munching on a granola bar and an apple. Near the end of lunch, ‘Phil the Pill’, a jerky nerd freshman, gave her his carrot sticks from his lunch and they shared her potato chips from the vending machine in the cafeteria. Phil was smart and they often talked about science fiction novels. He loved the old books of Heinlein, Asimov, and Bradbury. She knew the books too because Dad had many of them at home in his office-library.

Once upon a time, Dad was a nerd too. Rick Fallon had earned his coolness by snagging Sandy Ricci, a bouncy, pretty, college cheerleader. They married after college and then he became a computer programmer. His latest job had him debugging software for a game company. He had one cool business perk—they tried all the games in their beta stage.

Andi was skilled at exterminating Zombies, reducing mutants to green mush, shooting down evil space bugs and enemy alien star cruisers, and getting through the mazes of many older games like Doom and Heretic. She cruised the streets in hot cars in Grand Theft Auto, and made worlds in Sym. She fought so many dragons and creatures of the night in Myth to the point that she was a grand champion.

As she thought about it all now, did this talent help her in any way? Not really. Scott refused to play with her anymore, because she usually clobbered him. Only her little brother would regularly play. She was nice to him though, he liked the simpler kid games, and she let him win, sometimes. She really liked to challenge and defeat Dad. It was the time, when he had fun with her, and was amazed by her talents. However, those days were few, all the rest in between were lonely and filled with school, homework, and Andi’s volunteer time at the Animal Rescue.

She thought of her pets, Snickers and PB, both were rescues. Snickers once an abused and abandoned pet, she had nursed him back to health and into a decent dog with love, training, and treats. It was a bristling pride this morning that angered Andi when her mother griped about the dog and his unusual mess.

Petunia Bud was once a tiny kitten with one blind eye. She did fine most days, although she had the knack for knocking things off shelves and jumping on the snack bar, sometimes missing and making a mess.

Despite all their frailties, Andi loved her pets more than most people. They didn’t care if she was a Dork or Dweeb, plain or bookish or had a flat-chest. In fact, they loved it when she settled into a chair or bed to read or study, or work on her laptop. They kept her company. Snickers loved to play catch and chase his chewed sneaker, and then to lie and nap on the end of her bed. She loved them. She worried that PB was outside all day and hoped that Snickers wouldn’t chase her out of the yard.

She glanced at the clock, glad the day had finally sped forward. She would ride the bus home, even though it was stinky and noisy. Most of the kids on it were retarded dorks. Well, that wasn’t fair to the kids, but it was wheels and since she was the second stop she could escape quicker than most of the other kids. She stuffed her books and homework in her backpack, checked the mirror in her locker, smoothed the cowlick over her forehead, and slammed the door shut. Another school day; been there, did that.

She sprinted down the hallway. It was as she passed the library that she saw a shadow. It looked feline, but like a dark wisp of smoke that disappeared through the closed glass door. She looked back but saw nothing. She shook her head of the thought and merged with the throng of kids exiting the school. She laughed as Peaches and Jason tag-teamed her.

Jason threw his arm about her and hugged her. He kissed her head, exclaiming, “Happy Birthday, Dork-Face!”

She shrugged away from his embrace, laughing. “Peaches will be jealous.”

Peaches possessively grabbed onto Jason’s slim arm. “Nah. You’re like our sister. Right? No big deal kissing a sister or brother, right?”

“I guess not.” Andi shook with laughter. “Although, my brother is a little creep and gross, so, I don’t kiss him. Besides, he likes to torture me with boogers and Flying Frog Frisbees, he finds in the street.”

Peaches shivered and shook her head. “I’d kill the brat. Glad, I’m an only child.” She kissed Andi’s cheek, then saying, “Have fun tonight. See you in the A-M.” She strode off with Jason toward their bus.

Andi raced to hers, stepping on and found a seat behind the driver.

Mrs. Potter was a coffee-colored lady, wearing a hundred pounds too much, with a head full of braided snakes, reminding Andi of Medusa. However, the driver was usually all smiles, if everyone behaved on her bus. Screw up, yell, throw stuff, and everyone got the full volume of her voice and a withering look that calmed the mayhem. Everyone was afraid of her threats— “I’m gonna tell your Mama about your foul mouth. Don’t you be talkin’ like that on my bus.” Then her usual admonishment, “You wanna ride my bus? Then you sit and behave like humans, not a screechin’ pack of monkeys!”

Andi smiled at her. “Hey, Miz Potter. How’s it goin’?”

“Fine, little gal, jes fine. Hope you had a good day.”

Andi didn’t know much about Mrs. Potter, other than she was once from somewhere in Maryland and a grandma. She had driven this bus route for ten years, and was ‘darned proud of her job and loved all the rascals she had driven to school and back’. She was sometimes the best part of the day, when Andi was going home. Mrs. Potter also owned a fine alto voice, and she hummed and sang while driving. It was weird, but hearing her sing, made Andi feel secure.

At her bus stop, Andi slipped out of the articulated door before the bus fully stopped, calling, “See ya!” She ran to the next block and then crossed the street to head south on Magnolia Circle.

“A lovely name for a street without Magnolia trees,” she said shaking her head. Most of the giant, older trees had been removed by the city because they were hazardous; likely to fall over during Santa Ana windstorms and some had buckled the sidewalks and streets with their invasive roots. The block now sported thin, drought-resistant trees and xeri-scaping, which meant lots of cactus, succulents, ground covering vines, and wispy looking tufts of sedge grasses. Many people had Zen sand or rock gardens, and little shrubs in their front yards. Some homes were fenced in with ornamental grills, gates, and fortresses of wrought iron, even though the houses were simple California Mission style or little post-WWII bungalows.

She was glad they kept their trees and a patch of lawn in the front of the two-story cream 1930’s era Mission style house. It was in an older neighborhood on the edge of Santa Monica, but she loved her house. She looked forward to coming home, to see the shady evergreens and elms, the juniper shrubs bordering the front porch, and the sienna-colored Mexican tiles and pavers that was a curved welcoming walkway to the house.

Dad had threatened to build a wall, if only to keep the neighborhood dogs and kids off his grassy yard. He took pride in his verdant and shady landscape. Nevertheless, he disliked the mess others made of it.

She noticed the long driveway was empty of cars and knew she would have free reign of the house for about a half hour. Then she stopped cold as she keyed the front door. “Darn! I had Drama Club auditions today.” She groaned also recalling her chores and the possible mess in the downstairs guest bathroom.

She crept inside; expecting a flood of dirty, toilet water, but the entryway-tiled floor was clean and dry. So was the bathroom. Evidently, the toilet finally worked without overflowing.

Everything was orderly, with the living room curtains pulled back, and filled with afternoon sunshine. Now she was curious and dropped her backpack on the bench in the hallway. She checked the chalkboard for messages but there wasn’t anything new.

“Mom?” She called, headed for the kitchen, where it was clean, and tidy too.

“What the hey?” she wondered aloud. The dishwasher was humming, the counters scrubbed, the floor mopped, and then she let out a screech.

A short woman with black hair with streaks of gray at her temples backed into the kitchen swishing about a dust mop. She turned about at Andi’s yell.

“Oh geez-lou-eeze!” She gaped and put a hand to her chest. “Dios Mio! You scared me.”

“Me too. Who are you?” Andi almost yelled.

“I’m Flora, from Mighty Tidy Maid Service. And you must be … um—”

“Andi.”

“Yes, Andrea. Your Dad said you’d be home” she glanced at her wristwatch “right about now.” She beamed a broad smile at Andi. “You are to go upstairs, do your homework, take a shower, and then put on a pretty dress.”

Suspicious, Andi leaned against the kitchen table to ask, “Why?”

“Not sure, other than it’s what his note said.” She smiled and opened the refrigerator. “Here, have a juice and cookie.” She passed along a box and large oatmeal cookie in plastic wrap. “Now, I’ve got to get dinner on.”

Andi took the food, but then asked warily, “Um, you are making dinner, too? I thought we were going out tonight.”

“Yes. Just some marinated chicken for fajitas and rice. Simple stuff anyone can put together later.”

“I’m vegan.”

“Then I guess you eat the rice and veggies, no chicken.” She looked up at tall Andi, to say, “You are a bit skinny, lucky you, maybe you need another cookie, hm?”

Andi exchanged glances, herself dressed in black skinny jeans and the skull shirt and the chunky lady in maroon pants and a mauve blouse, she also wore white sneakers with little pink socks.

“I guess so.” She took another cookie and left the kitchen. “This is weird. We’ve got a maid now.” Andi commented, snagging her pack and bolting up the stairs to her room.

She noticed her bed made. The curtains open to the world, the sun streamed into her usually dark room. The dirty clothes that had been on her bed and floor were in the hamper. Little PB was asleep on her carpeted cat perch by the window. Her desk freshly dusted. The room smelled like lavender air freshener. Kicking off her Doc Martin shoes, letting them fall like lead weights on the floor, she reclined on her bed.

“Not bad, Dad. Now this is more like it.” She sighed and grabbed up the remote, turning on her stereo. A CD began churning out a love song by Two Bad Grooves—it was a mix of EMO and hard rock. Humming the hard-driven tune, she grabbed up her laptop and opened the lid. It was like a genie, instantly responding to her touch. “Hey! Cortana!” she giggled as it responded then saying, “My email”.

Andi dove into her email account hoping there were a bunch of birthday messages from her family, friends, and relatives. There were a couple messages but not anything from Scott. Disappointed, she then found one from her Grandparents on Face Book, a cute cat birthday message along with the promise of a gift they would send later in the week.

She got up and went to greet PB. “Hey, baby girl. How are you?” She petted the cat. She was still and cool. PB did not make her usual chirpy greeting or roll over for a belly rub. Andi stood on tiptoe to pick PB off the perch. She cuddled the limp cat to her. “PB?”

Tears flooded and ran down her cheeks. “Oh baby. What happened?” She held the still animal to her chest, crying, “Where are you Petunia? No!”

“Andrea?” Flora called from downstairs. “You alright up there?”

Andi slipped to the floor below the cat tree, cradling little Petunia. She was always sickly as a kitten, but to die so young was a mystery. She was sure Dad and Mom wouldn’t care why she died or want to pay for a vet to tell them why. “Oh, Petunia,” she blubbered.

Flora stepped in on quiet feet like a cat herself. “What happened?”

“My cat … Petunia, is gone.” She looked up at Flora, “It’s my birthday. How could she die on my birthday?” Andi fell apart.

Flora knelt on the floor and pulled Andi into her arms. She stroked the dead cat and then rocked Andi.

“God only knows how or why. I’m sorry for you, honey.”

Andi looked up, choking back a running nose to say bitterly, “Why would God take her? She was my best friend. I loved her.”

“I know. Maybe Petunia was sick, now she is with God.”

Andi nodded. “I thought she was okay. Because she was sickly as a kitten, I never got her spayed. I was going to take her next month. Then today I worried over her, because Mom put her outside. She went into heat this week. Now she is dead. I don’t understand why.”

“That is life’s mysteries. Maybe we don’t need to know why. We just love our little friends for as long as we have them. And they love us.”

Andi rubbed her face and nose on her sleeve and shakily climbed to her feet. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

Flora was slower getting up from the floor. “We can give her a pretty place to spend eternity. I noticed you have some lovely trees and flower gardens in the backyard. She likes flowers.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Andi’s face crumpled again into tears. “Oh, Flora! What am I gonna do?”

“Let’s put her in her bed. Leave her for the family when they come home, which will be soon.”

“Why? They don’t care about her. She was my baby—”

Flora nodded, “I know, honey. She was lucky to have you for the time she had on God’s green earth. Maybe her little heart was too fragile for all that love you gave her.” She placed the cat gently in her bed. “She’ll be fine for now. You go clean up.”

Wiping her nose and eyes, Andi asked, “Did you clean my room?”

“Yes. I also let your cat in; she was pacing in the hallway wanting in.”

“That is weird. She was outside this morning, how could she—”

An eyebrow quirked up on Flora’s pudgy, tanned face. “Ah, a mystery.” Putting her arm about Andi’s waist, she led her out to the hall. “Cats are mighty strange that way. Once, I had a cat that went missing for weeks. I looked everywhere for him, even put up posters around the neighborhood. Nobody saw him. Then one day, there he was yowling at the back door, like usual. I opened the door and scooped him up sure that he was a beaten mess or something, but nope. Other than a notch in an ear and skinny, he was fine.” She grew thoughtful, “Although, it was weird, he never roamed far from home again. I guess he needed his adventure. We all do.” She smiled up at Andi. “Well, now, you clean up and find a pretty dress, okay?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Andi impulsively hugged the housekeeper. “I’m sorry to cry all over you, Flora. But I feel better now.”

“You’re getting there, honey. Everything will be just fine. You’ll see this is your special day. Carpe Diem. Be good.” Flora left on quiet feet, the stairs didn’t even creak. Despite having dark hair, and caramel colored skin, Flora had brilliant celery-green eyes, which Andi found beautiful.

Andi called once more, “Gracias, Flora!”

“De nada Chica.”