Last Thursday, I mused about my dear adaptable kitty, Ruby Azazel, and what an amazing traveler the feisty little thirteen-month-old has become. No matter where Dan and I have ended up in the past year, it’s taken her no time at all to familiarize herself with our new environs. As long as she knows where her toys, food and water bowls, fleece blanket, and litter box are, she seems content – even more so if there’s an accessible window – her own personal viewfinder on the world. She’s so flexible, in fact, that I’ve begun to think that I could learn a lot from her “unabashed curiosity and enviable serenity,” as I noted last week. Perhaps I could even figure out how to apply such adaptability to my own life – not to mention my writing.
Then, just the other day, I was looking for her in her usual haunts when, lo and behold, I found her perched atop our garment bag. For a moment, I thought, “Now, would you look at that? She’s not just adaptable – she thrives on traveling. She doesn’t just mind it – she loves it!” Suddenly, I noticed her resolute expression, and I began to reconsider my misguided thought process. Perhaps her stance atop the garment bag meant something else entirely. Perhaps, after a year of experiencing our nomadic existence, she was finally putting her proverbial paw down: “No more traveling, Mom and Dad, at least for a while...”
Well, too bad for her. Because I just found out today that my book proposal was indeed accepted by the fine folks at Avalon Travel, which means that once my work for the Big Easy International Film Festival ends next weekend, I’ll be making plans to head further east to the Florida Keys, where I’ll begin researching and writing the first edition of Moon Florida Keys. After that, we’ll drive west to Los Angeles to prepare and execute our fifth annual Beverly Hills Shorts Festival, and by May, we’ll be headed north to Michigan, where I’ll soon be hard at work on the fourth edition of Moon Michigan.
So, sorry, little Ruby. When we adopted you from that rescue facility in the French Quarter, you might’ve wished for a nice little stationary family, in a nice little stationary home. Well, I’m afraid to tell you... that’s not exactly what you got. But, on the flipside, you couldn’t have asked for a Mama who would love you more.
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