What happens when the gods forget the rituals

I had awakened and managed to turn the coffee pot on to heat before beginning the dishes. Doing anything before my fix in the morning is risky business as not even my eyes function properly without a liberal infusion of coffee. This is why even though I have one of those devices that allow you to program it to make coffee in the morning, I still make a pot at night. I have been known to load it without coffee, water or more horribly, the pot, set the time and discover my mistake in the morning when I am in no condition to rectify it. Thus, I just make a pot at night.
Now I know someone will send me an advertisement for one of those one cup coffee makers that are fool proof. Ah, but what kind of fool drinks one 6 ounce cup of coffee? Six ounces doesn't even fill my cup. Six ounces doesn't even spark much let alone get my brain cells to fire. What kind of creature is so weak it gets off on 6 OUNCES of coffee??? What is the world coming to? The end must be near! But, on to the narrative...
I had a small but mighty Fire winding around my ankles as I washed the dishes of the night before, cleaned the counter and cleaned the sink having finally slain that porcelain and glass dragon. The Fire was getting more and more aggravated so I found a little dish and much to my dismay discovered I missed the polyplasticawhatalene dragon. I gave it a good scrub and when to the great cabinet of all offerings: the refrigerator.
Within the magic cabinet, I found a jar of chicken and carefully dished out just enough for a Fire and put it down. Squirrel tail in the air, he gave it a dismissive twitch. I moved it to the counter and he arose on strange air currents to give it a nose in the air dismissal. Clearly I did not know where the proper altar was located and my status as cat goddess was in danger, so I chose the only other position, the kitchen box of perfect cat height of limited life span as it also doubles as a scratching post to the non-believers in our little furdom. This time I got the look as another cat with few philosophical concerns leaped up and cleaned the offering plate. Josephina is a heretic.
Now I knew I was in trouble, serious trouble. Either Fire was sick or I was doing something wrong so did the only sane thing a human can do, I poured that first cup of coffee to get my brain cells firing. The first cup is always the sweetest, even though it is bitter from air exposure over night, overheated and needs a liberal dose of cream, preferably the kind I make with a little sweetener and flavor.
It had been way too long to be operating without my drug of need and I was failing in goddesshood so you can understand I was a bit flustered and needy. Fire was sitting on the kitchen floor threatening to expose my weakness to a gaggle of carnivores who were perfectly capable of purring me into unconsciousness with their secret weapon, the Zompurr, and then eating me for dinner. I had to have coffee, but I couldn't even get my own ritual to the bean god of caffeine right. I poured the cream mix into the cup before the coffee. This demonstrated I was in no condition to be upright and suddenly, Fire sprang from the floor to the counter in a perfect 4 point landing nose in my cup almost getting a scorched from falling coffee. I grabbed him with the other hand as his entire body reoriented to the cream cup like a milk seeking missile.
With cat under one arm I managed the coffee, chugged a drink of mind clearing wonder and decided to retreat to my bedroom to write. Oh No! I had the sacred offering of the great and wonderful Goddess of Mook in my hand and Fire was not letting me out of his sight. As soon as I ceased to move I knew a Fire would fly into my arms trusting me catch him as his head dunked in a hot coffee cup. Clearly something had to be done.
Thus, I dragged George out of his nap and informed him loudly I had to be taught the great Mook Ritual and upon which sacred house site to preform it. It was a good thing I surrendered to ignorance and sought knowledge as I would never have known the ritual is shared by Conner, the elder, and Fire, the Novus, on a special spot on the rolling steel center isle in the special white plastic offering dish.
And now, I shall enjoy my cup of Joe.

What Do They Think???

Having awoken from my slumber, an act I really need to rethink: either the slumber or awakening, I found that Rusty and Trouble of the Furry 7 had gathered everything they could find all night resembling a cord into a pile in the dining room floor which they were proudly guarding.
Unfortunately, the act of ferreting out and gathering these treasures caused measurable damage to the rest of the house.

The only good news is that they remembered their training and didn't touch any electrical cords or the damage would have been major.

I think you can figure out who is Rusty and who is Trouble.







After completing the picture for this article I praised the gods of digital. It 37 photos and massive editing to produce those two pictures, something that I never could have achieved before digital cameras and computers.....just something to think about.....I remember an animal photographer who used to set aside one day for each photo shoot per animal and go through an entire block of film....