I tried to wrangle this kitty into a chapter. I tried coaxing it with treats. Oh, what glorious intentions I had: The Kit-Cat clock I remember from Nana’s kitchen would serve double-duty–as a period piece and a metaphor.
Ha! Ever tried to herd a cat? If so, you already know what happened next. It went all feral on me, screeching and clawing and twitching its tail. It mangled my sentences. It shredded an important scene and threatened to ruin the whole chapter.
Good thing this is a no-kill shelter.
Countless drafts later, someone wiser than I stepped in to save the day. "It’s not working," she said, and she was right. So
I swallowed my disappointment released the kitty into the wilds from whence it came.
I’m thinking I might leave a bowl of milk on my back porch. You know, just in case…