A little late for the collection of stories, but my muse took the day
off on September first.  She came back  in a really dark mood when she
showed up again.  O J

"Tell me again about the old days Sandy," said the kitten who was
Sandy's apprentice.  Little Bootsie never tired of hearing the old
stories.  They made him a little sad, but the wonder of it all
fascinated  him.

"Well when I was a kitten  about your age, I was an apprentice to an
old tom named Hector who had once lived with hoomins.  They  left dry,
crunchy food and fresh water out for him all the time and fed him
gushy food three times a day.  He had a little door to the shelter
that the hoomins lived in and he could come and go as he pleased."

"Tell me about the petting!" cried Bootsie.

"Well, hoomins didn't use their tongues for washing the way we do, but
they had the most marvelous way of using their paws to stroke a cat.
It almost always made them purr."

"And tell me about the beds and the blankets, please."

"There were these warm snuggly pieces of soft cloth that the hoomins
slept in.  They spread them out on big soft cushions called beds that
the hoomins laid on to sleep.  A cat who was lucky enough to live with
a hoomin could make himself at home on the beds when the hoomins went
to sleep and get special skritches as he fell asleep all snug and warm
next to his hoomin."

"But what happened to all the hoomins," Sandy?

"None of the cats alive today really know," said Sandy.  The only
thing I can remember is that Hector used a word that I don't really
understand.  He called it "war."

Regards and Purrs,
O J