Writing 101, Day 11: Today, tell us about the home you lived in when you were twelve. For your twist, pay attention to — and vary — your sentence lengths.
Last year when I was equivalent to a 12 year old human, I was living in the same house I am now. Fancy that. A three bedroom two and a half bath single family dwelling with a finished basement and one car garage. All for me and my two humans. Our House was the ideal suburbia model of the 1980’s with its bordered wallpaper and upholstered window treatments. Classified as one of those split entry types, the front door is in the middle of the top and bottom floors, and has two sets of interior stairs. One set goes up, the other goes down.
What I liked best about the house was the textured plush carpeting. It’s wall to wall. The kind that my claws can get really good traction on to make those high speed corner turns. It’s a race track. I zoom from the front living room window, through the dining room, round the hallway corners to the other side of the house, and into the front master bedroom. And then back. Yes I am a thundering herd of elephants.
Sometimes I liked to freak my mom out with my balancing act. I’d walk along the smooth wooden railing that guards the open stair well on the top floor. It’s a one story plus 3 foot drop from there. Once she saw me slip and fall, and raced to the stairs prepared for the worst, but thanks to a protruding carpeted ledge I was able to hook onto it like Velcro and claw myself back up to safety. Boy did I ever get cuddled and kissed with relief.
The non-carpeted rooms are the kitchen, bathrooms, laundry room, and stair landing. These places are not recommended for high speed traction. I get nowhere real fast, or spin out of control. The stair landing has an area rug that is not secured to the tiled floor and is often found bunched up against the front door from the wide angle sweep of my rear end trying to make it around the bend on a mad dash up or down.
My bathroom is downstairs in the laundry room. Mom tried to be environmentally friendly and used crushed pine for my litter. It had a pleasant woodsy scent. Downstairs was also home to the big screen TV. Dad bought me one of those multilevel scratching posts with a sling bed at the top, and placed it between their recliners so we could all watch TV together. I liked how it towered above so I could look down upon them.
My human’s children had both grown up and moved out. Yup, empty nesters. One of their bedrooms was storage and the other turned guest room was off limits in case of cat allergies. Now and then we’d have family dinners and on some of these occasions the benign stone-faced fireplace would become a hot blaze of crackling fire. It was completely mesmerizing. The garage too was a constant source of curiosity. I’m still not allowed in there. Overall, like Crosby Stills and Nash sing, “Our house, is a very, very, very fine house. With two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy, ’cause of me.….” =^,,^=