Jeanne Owens, author

Blog about author Jeanne Owens and her writing


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A Memorable Birth – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS

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Martin, an older man in a Navy uniform, pulled his car up to the doors of the ER and ran inside with a cry of “Help! Help! I need help!”

The nurse behind the counter hurried up to him and asked, “What’s wrong, sir?”

“It’s my Lydia. She’s gone into labor! She’s going to give birth any minute! She needs a berth for her birth!”

The nurse gasped. “Of course, sir! We’ll get her taken care of right away!”

The nurse looked around and motioned a couple of orderlies over. They followed the old man outside to his car, with one orderly pushing a wheelchair ahead of him. Martin opened the car door and reached inside while the nurse and orderlies drew close to help move Lydia into the wheelchair.

The nurse and orderlies gasped when Martin turned to face them with not an expectant woman but a very pregnant Dachshund in his arms.

“Uh, sir,” said the nurse, her voice calm but somewhat uncertain, “that’s a dog, not a woman.”

“I know that! This is my Lydia, and she’s going to whelp her pups any minute!”

“But, this is a hospital. For humans. You need to go to a vet.”

“Don’t you think I know that? But I don’t have time. I’m from out of town, going to a reunion for some of my old mates from the Navy. Lydia went into premature labor; she wasn’t due for another week or so. I thought I had time, so I took her with me, as I always do. I stopped at the first vet office I found, but they’re closed. The nearest emergency vet is too far; she’ll not make it in time. Please! Can’t you do something?”

The nurse and orderlies looked from the old sailor to the dog and back. “Well…,” said the nurse, still unsure.

“Please! She’s all I have in this world. I can’t stand to lose her if something goes wrong. She’s never had pups before.”

The nurse and orderlies had a brief, whispered discussion, then gave a brief nod. The nurse turned back to the old man. “It’s not normal hospital policy, sir,” she told him, “but we can’t turn down a plea for help from a serviceman like yourself. And we’re not heartless enough to turn away from an animal in need. We’ll find a room and bed to make her comfortable, while Mike here,” she pointed to the orderly with the wheelchair, “contacts an animal rescue he knows that is nearby and that he believes can help Lydia.”

Martin sighed. “Thank you! That would be very much appreciated.”

“We’re happy to help, sir. And thank you, for your service, sir.”

Martin placed Lydia in the wheelchair, and the group wheeled her inside the hospital. The other people in the lobby stared at them, surprised to see the Dachshund being brought in, and watched as she was taken into a room while one of the orderlies made a call from the desk phone.

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This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “birth/berth”:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Sept. 2/17

 

 

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Get Used To It – One-liner Wednesday #1linerWeds

 

 

“Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.” – Robert A. Heinlein

 

 

This post is part of One-liner Wednesday:

One-Liner Wednesday – It’s Surreal

(quote image found on Pinterest)

 

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Black Cats – One-liner Wednesday #1linerWeds

Since today would have been my sweet angel Shadow’s 15th birthday, and tomorrow is Black Cat Appreciation Day, I decided to share a favorite quote:

 

“A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere.” – Groucho Marx

 

Happy birthday, my sweet Shadow boy! I miss you.

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This post is part of One-liner Wednesday:

One-Liner Wednesday – Wordless

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Buy Happiness – One-liner Wednesday #1linerWeds #cleartheshelter

 

You can buy happiness if you pay an adoption fee and save the life of a pet, so help #cleartheshelter.

 

 

This post is part of One-liner Wednesday:

One-Liner Wednesday – Priorities

 

(image is from Pinterest)


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How To Tell If Your Cat Is Plotting To Kill You – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS

Lately, I’ve taken to writing little stories or the occasional poem for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, but this time the prompt is to use a book title – either one that you’re reading or one nearby – and write the post based on the book title and what it brings to mind.

Now, I have a couple of books I’m currently reading, but their titles don’t work too well with this prompt, but one I have nearby to read next seemed to be promising, so I’m gonna see what I can do with it. That book is by the humorist, The Oatmeal, and is called How to Tell if Your Cat is Plotting to Kill You.

Now, as a cat lover and former cat owner (my Shadow has been gone almost a year), I’ve heard people talk about cats being evil and plotting to kill you, and I don’t really believe it to be true (as some people tend to do) and instead consider myself part of the larger cat-loving community who joke about it instead.

That being said, my mind has also tried to go through some memories to see if there might have been any indications of Shadow’s plotting or failed attempts to kill me. Some possibilities include:

*The many times he would climb up in my lap, reach up, put his paws on my shoulders, and lick my earlobes while purring and kneading my shoulders. I thought it was just an endearing habit, an indication of his contentment and happiness with me, and seeing me as his “mommy”. But maybe the kneading (with claws extended) and licking were something more, like he was trying to “soften” me up and get a taste?

*Jumping up on my dresser and shelves in the middle of the night, knocking stuff over. I thought it was just to get my attention, to get me up so I’d put him outside. Maybe he was trying put stuff on the floor for me to trip over in the dark, instead?

*Getting chummy with his poodle fur-sister, Cinnamon (see my main blog photo, above). On the surface, it appeared they had learned to get along like family. But maybe Shadow was actually recruiting her to his cause, because they both would be constantly underfoot (and especially Cinnamon), making it hard to walk without tripping over them, and in the kitchen in particular.

*Then there’s this photo, where he seems to be saying, “Fire up this grill, or else.”

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*And too, he was a black cat, a “ninja” cat, as many in the cat community refer to them, and he was constantly practicing his hiding skills outside:

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Hmm.. I don’t know. Maybe there is some truth to it, after all?


This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “book title”:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS July 15/17

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That Smell – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS

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Jared stepped up and knocked on the door. While he waited, he breathed into his palm to check his breath one last time and shuffled his feet anxiously.  He’d been friends with her for quite a while, and he’d had a crush on her for a while, and he thought he’d noticed a similar interest in him from her. And now she’d asked him over for dinner. He wasn’t sure what to expect. But he’d finally decided to tell her how he felt, at least, and see how it went from there.

After a few moments, the door finally opened and Bernadette stepped out. “Hi, Jared!” she said with a smile.

“Hi, Bernadette,” he replied nervously. He shoved a bouquet of flowers at her. “Here. I got these for you. I know you haven’t been feeling well lately.”

She took the flowers, and her smile widened. “How sweet! They’re lovely, Jared. Thank you! Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in. Dinner should be ready shortly.”

Bernadette went back inside and Jared followed. As soon as he entered, he was greeted by her two cats, Muffin and Biscuit, who intertwined themselves around his legs and offered up purrs and meows. Jared bent down to pet them. “Hello there, you two,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in while, have I? Did you miss me? How are you guys doing?”

The cats weren’t the only thing that greeted him, though. As he finished saying hello to the cats, he asked, “Bernadette, what’s that smell?”

“Huh?” she asked from where she was putting the flowers in a vase on the coffee table in the sitting room. “What smell?”

“That smell.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Jared.”

“Can’t you smell that smell?”

Bernadette finished arranging the flowers and came over to him and the cats. “I’m sorry, Jared. You’ll have to be more specific. With this stuffy nose from this bad cold I’ve been dealing with, I’ve not been able to smell anything, really, for the last few days.”

“Bernie, when’s the last time you cleaned the litter boxes?”

Bernadette blinked and looked from Jared, to the cats, to the bathroom down the hall. She gasped and her face reddened with embarrassment. “Oh my goodness! I can’t believe it! Jared, I’m so sorry you had to be greeted by that! Muffin, Biscuit, oh, my sweeties, I’m sorry! I wish you could have told me, reminded me. I’ve been feeling so terrible lately things have slipped my mind, and with not being able to smell, I didn’t even notice. I’ll do it right away! Jared, you can wait if you want, but if you want to go, I’ll understand.”

Jared shook his head and rolled up his sleeves. “No, Bernie. I’m staying and I’m going to help you.”

Bernadette gave him a grateful smile and the two set about tackling the litter boxes while Muffin and Biscuit supervised.

 


This silly little story is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “smell”:

https://lindaghill.com/2017/05/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-2717/