Who is Chuck and why does he like to travel?

I was born to be a writer and when I wrote my novel Wild Point Island, Chuck, my orange and white recently rescued feral tabby, got it in his head that he wanted to travel to the island and see the place for himself. Well, of course, Wild Point Island, can only be seen by revenants (you'll have to read the book to find out who they are) and Chuck is no revenant so instead, I concocted a plan to take Chuck with me when I travel around the world, which I do frequently. Not an easy task. First, I have to deflate the poor kid of all air, stuff him in my carry-on bag, remember to bring my portable pump, and when I arrive, I pump him back up. Ouch. But he's used to it by now and given the choice to either stay home in his comfy cat bed or get deflated, he pulls out his passport, ready to travel, every time.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Chuck Dreams of Rock Cottage in Antigua


        Chuck had another fantasy.

It seems he’d come to Antigua with two dreams--to meet Eric Clapton, his hero, and to stay at Rock Cottage.

Now, Rock Cottage, is a premo cottage located in Blue Waters, the resort that Bob and I were staying at while we were in Antigua.

Surrounded on three sides by the Carribean Seas, it is very private, sequestered far away from the villas and rooms of Blue Waters. It sports an elegant pool, a secluded beach, a hot tub, multiple sun decks, open balconies with beautiful water views, a private bar and dining area, full kitchen--everything the visiting traveler could want to relax and be happy.

Chuck wanted that experience.

He wanted to be pampered and surrounded by quiet and beauty.

So here we were, thoroughly enjoying ourselves in our villa when Chuck lowered the boom.  

Rock Cottage.  

Since we were not part of the rich and famous set and couldn’t afford to actually stay there, he at least wanted to see it and pretend for a brief moment, well, life was different and that he was more than just “almost famous.”

At first, I objected, but Chuckie is hard to resist when he puts on that face.

So, one morning after breakfast, we trekked up the magnificent path that leads to this cottage.  Our intention was to get a look-see inside.  Unfortunately, Rock Cottage prohibits pets and the cottage was closed for renovations so we had two problems that needed solving.  

The path we followed was flanked on either side by greenery and beautiful flowers.  We gazed out to our right--to the dazzling Caribbean water shining brightly in the sun.  Bob said, “We’ll just have to do what we always do--we’ll stuff the kid in your smart bag and sneak him past the workers.”

So Chuck went into my bag, and Bob and I put on our best charming faces and somehow wheedled our way through the impressive stone archway, up the steps and into Rock Cottage. 

Luckily, the men were busy working outside so we had the chance to walk around and see the inside.  Chuck hopped out and began to sniff around.
Yeah, we were taking a chance.  Any minute someone could spot him, but after his disappointment in not meeting Eric Clapton, I didn’t have the heart to say no.
         And then I lost sight of him.

        I was intrigued with this wonderful place and imagined what it would be like to stay here for a week or two.

        My mind was filled with images of delicious meals and sunbathing on the deck.  Suddenly, I snapped back to reality in a panic.

        Where was Chuck?

Bob grabbed my arm.  “Look. Look what the kid is doing now.”

I glanced outside the cottage. There was Chuck, laying on the deck, in the sunshine, gazing out to the Caribbean Sea.  Oh, brother.  He looked like he belonged there. 

“Just give him a minute,” Bob said.

Chuck got his minute.  And then we quietly went back to our villa. 

I supposed that night that Chuck, the “almost famous” cat, dreamed of Rock Cottage and maybe becoming “famous” one day.    


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