A Haunting Halloween Tale.............

Prior to this weekend, I was somewhat proud to boast that I had thus far managed to escape the Halloween tradition of a haunted hayride - or something of that genre. I can make that claim no longer.

Those who know me well are undoubtedly sitting in front of their computer screens with their jaws hanging in their laps;my reputation as the original Halloween Chicken is well established. I'm certain some of you remember that gothic, black and white daytime serial of the 1960's, "Dark Shadows". Every afternoon, after my mother's "stories" concluded, we turned the television to ABC and for 30 minutes thrilled to the sympathetic vampire Barnabus Collins and his love for the beautiful and unattainable Angelique.......or was it Josette? I can't recall, but there's a very good reason for that. As my sisters and brother sat side by side on the living room sofa, I stood in the hallway, half-hidden behind the door casing, ready to retreat at the drop of a fang. And fangs WERE dropped, my friends - with alarming frequency. Claws, too. And my fear of all things creepy-crawly going bump in the night was born. And thrived - well into my adulthood. Until this weekend.

This weekend, with the assistance of a very capable co-conspirator, two of three sisters and a brother traveled to Millbury, Massachusetts to surprise family we hadn't seen in close to a decade. That we chose Halloween was not by accident. The cousins (and aunt) we wanted to surprise run an annual haunted hayride to benefit youth via their Youth Camp - an organization they've run for many, many years. The creative force behind this amazing event is my cousin, Paul - a man who works 2 full time jobs, and still manages to galvanize and coordinate a volunteer army of ghouls, witches, ghosts, goblins, chainsaw-wielding maniacs, electricians, carpenters, make-up/costume people and......oh yes, a variety of vendors to provide everything from diesel fuel to run the tractors (that pull the hay wagons), to food for volunteers and snacks and beverages to sell at the concession stand. His mom - my aunt - works tirelessly doing everything from parking cars to loading the terrified onto the hay wagons and sending them into the woods. Her sister runs the concession stand - this year with the volunteer assistance of the aforementioned Halloween Chicken.

And so, amid sales of hot chocolate, chili dogs, hot apple cider and donuts, the evening passed. At regular intervals, a very adept zombie shuffled aimlessly through the hall, his vacant eyes coming to rest on victims with unswerving precision. He dropped down next to quivering teenagers for long moments before rising haltingly to his feet and making his lurching way back out into the crowd waiting to board the hay wagons. We could always tell when he was working the crowd outside as the hall would suddenly fill with people casting nervous glances at the door as they paid for their soda and candy bars. Sure enough, it wouldn't take long for him to appear - and the hallway to empty once again.  Finally, we were down to the last ride and, just when I was congratulating myself on a terrifying journey successfully avoided, Carl (Paul's older brother) and my own brother appeared and I was being unceremoniously "escorted" to the boarding area - and "assisted" to the hay wagon. There, wedged between my sister and my brother - and shivering in the wind and the cold (with the sightless zombie sitting directly behind me), I finally experienced the haunting experience I'd always missed....and then some. You see, when you're not bright enough to hide your nerves, your cousins will make the most of it.  Every homicidal maniac brandishing a chainsaw found the spot in front of my little railing and hacked away, shreiking merrily. A graceful white sheet with a grisly skeletal skull and hands found the side of my head as it swooped down on the end of its wire from its unseen position high in a tree. The very talented zombie thrust his bald head bare inches from my face, baring his black encrusted teeth in a hideous simile of a smile, eyes wide - grunts and odd vocalizations emanating from his throat. You get the picture. There was much screaming - and laughter - as the ride sped to a stop where it had begun some fifteen minutes before (it FELT more like 30!). We all carefully climbed down from the haywagon and made our chilly way back into the hall. No zombies followed us. No wafting ghosts slipped inside to continue the scare. Just a crowd of tired volunteers crowding the refreshment table for much needed - and well deserved - hot chocolate. Virtually everyone on the current crew asked for "the form" to sign up for Spooky Hollow 2011; many first-time attendees added their names and talents to the list, as well...including one formerly frightened middle-aged woman who will join her Massachusetts family next year to DO some of the frightening. Of course, I hadn't considered the fact that despite whatever costume I will wear, no matter how scary I might look, there's one undeniable reality.

I will still be in those woods, in total darkness ............on Halloween.  Wonder if that carpenter would build me a door casing I could duck behind............you know - just in case?! 

The Security of Hearth & Home - by Phoebe

Please note that there is no "2" in this "Phoebe". I am the Phoebe, to whom you've already been introduced - albeit inadequately - in an earlier post. My sister and I live with a woman I'll call "M". We won't disclose her full name - just in case we should happen to say anything that might offend; we do appreciate our steady stream of treats, toys and Iams, after all. Besides, she has given us our own page on this blog and we are not about to squander the opportunity to reach out to our public.

Although we have been portrayed as somewhat ... passive, we really do have definite roles in this household. One of my jobs is apartment security. 

We live in a beautiful, spacious apartment with hardwood floors, a working fireplace, two bedrooms (one for M and one for us), two and a half baths (the "half" is a feline en suite in our room), an enclosed porch, a lovely fenced-in yard and wonderful neighbors. When M is called away for an overnight trip, Jeanne, Pam or Lori stop in to feed and play with us. We have a lovely time, but I digress. Despite the presence of such agreeable and watchful neighbors, apartment security is vital in this day and age - and not just from the standard, run-of-the-mill riff-raff, either. All potential threats - tangible and intangible (to some) - must be thoroughly investigated. The lion's share of the task falls to me as I am reserved by nature. My sister, Annie, is far more of an extrovert; she will speak to everyone!

M has friends who have proved to be quite reliable. The previously mentioned neighbors are also friends. Jeanne's sister, Paulette, comes every other Monday and, aside from her love of the large and very LOUD machine that sucks up our discarded hair - she's one of our favorites. We've known and loved M's friend, Dawn, our whole lives (so far) as we met her when we were first adopted. Another good friend is Lora who lives very far away and has only visited once so far. Annie, in particular, loves her and always curls up on the sofa where Lora sat. I think she believes that she is saving her seat for the next visit. And then there is Dee, who claims to hate cats, but can always be relied upon for the perfect ear scratch. I tell you all of this so you will know that despite our - well, my - rigorous standards, we do let people in. But there is a process to be observed before this happens.

When a new person arrives, both Annie and I will generally come to the door to greet them. Most are anxious to pat us or pick us up. I, of course, do not allow this degree of familiarity until I know who I am dealing with. Really; does one imagine that when visiting the White House, the Obamas permit guests to pick up their children for a quick cuddle before proceeding into a State Dinner? I think not. That said, however, I do need a bit of quick contact to gather the scent for processing and evaluation. Once I've done so, I typically make a quick - but graceful - exit, allowing Annie to continue to "work the room", as it were.

Once safe beneath the bed in my room, I can more carefully examine the scent - and the visual impression - of the newcomers. Some things I have learned:

• shorter people (those under 4 feet in height) should be avoided. There are some exceptions. Pam's two grandchildren are very nice. Those who arrive in costume once a year, demanding candy should generally be avoided. Really, shouldn't parents provide sweets for them? Every dollar spent on Tootsie-Pops is a dollar not spent on items for Annie and me, after all.
• tall, deep-voiced people with whiskers (and I'm not referring to women after a certain age) are often not overly appreciative of cats. There are some, of course. M's brother visits frequently and, truth be told, he is one of the very few men I've approved. Her godson is another. Very nice men. Bald - the both of them. Perhaps that's why they like patting us so much. They just like hair and miss their own. Lora's husband visited once. Not bald. Very polite. He may certainly visit again.
• people who deliver food should always be allowed to pass. They don't even need to be scented. The food should be. Annie does not enjoy human food. I, however, have been known to indulge in yogurt, a dab of mashed potato, the odd piece of chicken. In the event that any of these are being brought into the house by strangers, it's my rule to give the delivery staff a wide path to do their jobs.
• women in high heels should be avoided. M teeters around in them every now and again, but I've trained her to leave them by the door when she arrives home from the office. One out of control "teeter" can result in weeks of tail and paw recuperation.

Once the newcomer has been thoroughly evaluated, the humans have generally retired to the living room. It is my practice to seat myself just outside the doorway which is in M's direct line of vision - when she is sitting in "her" (ha!) chair. I stare at her until she looks at me and silently communicate my approval of the newest visitor. If they have not passed muster, I find a good sized hairball, upchucked on the area rug in the center of the room, will get that point across quite nicely.

I believe I will allow you time to digest this first essay. Next up: Perimeter Security.

Phoebe

And so it begins...

Hmm; a blank screen. Interesting. Promotes the same sort of feeling I have when I start a new story: fear and panic!  How to begin? Seriously, it took all evening to get this far!

Let's see - since this is my first post, I may as well introduce my two Ragdoll cats: Annie and Phoebe. For those who may not be familiar with the breed, I will tell you that they are the largest breed of domestic cat, have long, cream colored hair, darker markings on their faces, ears and tails, big blue eyes and definite personalities. The breed is also exceptionally bright. Notice I said "the breed".  Mine are beautiful, loving and very endearing, but I don't attach "exceptionally bright" to their resume.  They are, however, exceptionally funny.

Annie is the former runt but has managed to put that behind her. At approximately 14 pounds, I think it's safe to say that she's out of the woods. She has one eye that appears to work a bit independently of the other as it will periodically cross.  It also periodically uncrosses when she's racing through the house, skids on the hardwood floor and crashes into a wall. I've seen it stay uncrossed for as long as 15 minutes. Annie enjoys stuffing her head in my purse and pulling out whatever she can fit into her mouth. As of this writing, I'm still missing $20 and a brand new Clinique lipstick. Sort of makes me wonder what she and her sister get up to when I'm at work.

Phoebe is the diva of the duo. Smaller than Annie by a few pounds, she's generally the object of Annie's chase around the house, although I've seen her hold her own when she's been caught. Phoebe loves the camera and will actually pose when she sees someone ready to point and click - even when they point at someone else. Phoebe is not a purse diver, preferring instead to spend her time trying to find a way outside where, presumably, she has a photo shoot scheduled with some high end portrait photographer.

Annie might have hung onto the $20, but I'm convinced that Phoebe's using the lipstick.

Their joint adventures are generally the topic of my Facebook status around the Christmas holidays as they rock and roll their way through my Christmas village - sort of like Godzilla stomping through the streets of Tokyo.  I'm sure that once the village goes up again this year, we will have a repeat performance which I will share. You've been warned.

Well...there. The screen isn't blank anymore. It would seem that I've managed to complete my first post. That's probably enough for the first night.

Stay tuned for more...........