Author

ADAMs Tomcat

Browsing

Racer Genes

The Tomcat strikes back.

I am officially coming out as a vintage car freak – yes, I have succumbed to my passion for classic vehicles. The feeling when the adrenaline that has accumulated during the day on Tuscany’s winding roads gives way to well-earned fatigue in the evening is priceless. I am quite simply a tomcat with petrol in my veins.
But, if there is one thing that gives me even more pleasure than winding up an alpine pass in a vintage car or cruising to Trieste for an espresso, it is polishing the exquisite fireball beforehand. The way it looks, the way it feels, the smell of leather, petrol and testosterone. Every screw, every eyelet and every leather thong gets its attentive loving care and pampering.
Fortunately the garage of our upper-class villa is amply equipped with well-maintained racing cars, because Adam, my can opener, also harbours a deep passion for classic cars. One fact that restricts our harmonious life together somewhat is that they belong to him and he is only on rare occasions prepared to swap the driver’s seat with me! This is a little unsettling if it is your dream to take part in a classic rally.
I repeatedly resort to tricks to keep him away from the garage. Fictitious appointments and dates are the more harmless traps that I have set for him just to get free passage.
Last Saturday morning the following happened: Adam came into the kitchen whistling and while he was making himself an espresso, explained verbosely that the vintage car rally that had been planned for six months would not be happening for me. After careful consideration he had decided to share this irretrievable experience with his latest love interest, as she been more than keen to go.
After a brief shock-induced paralysis, I shuffled slowly to my cushion at the window, draped myself with my back to him and prepared for a counter attack. In a quiet voice I explained to him that I completely understood his decision, as she had really earned the chance to go out with him and sniff the rally air. I was also completely aware that I would only disturb their time together as a couple. What can I say; he could not believe his luck. He had obviously expected more resistance. He quickly gulped his espresso down and shot off to pack.
While he stowed his luggage, I pinched his mobile and wallet with the identity documents out of the glove compartment, sent an iMessage to his current sweetheart and cancelled the weekend. Immediately after that I used the alarm system with a direct link to the police to trigger a silent alarm. Then I phoned the police emergency number 117, pretended I was a neighbour and reported that in the house opposite a strange man had just driven out of the garage in a wickedly expensive vintage car, although the house owner was away on a trip for the weekend. Just to be on the safe side I gave them the model and number plate of the cheeky thief. Then I removed the battery from Adam‘s mobile, threw it into a flower vase and put the telephone back in its place.
When Adam left a short while later, I waved goodbye to him from the window with a smile. I counted to 100, drank a perfect espresso and got into my favourite convertible with my travel bag.
At the second set of traffic lights there was a large contingent of police and in the middle of them Adam, completely distraught and undergoing a body search. I wondered briefly how he was going to identify himself and who else could identify him, but then I stowed my sentimentality in the glove compartment and drove past the scene without any sense of regret heading for a wonderful weekend and an unfulfilled dream on four wheels!

Copyrights: Manuela Dona

Quick Click!

2 Clicks to resource pioneer

Even for a tomcat like me, life is not always a bed of roses, but now and then a warning call gives you an incentive to get your life back on track and to achieve something great.

For some time now I have been numbing my everyday boredom with online shopping. On that fateful morning Adam was outraged and said that all his credit cards had been blocked, as apparently some crazy hacker had plundered his account. And until the matter had been resolved he would have to manage with cash, which he would have to get from the bank, like in the Stone Age. “There will be trouble if the tomcat has something to do with this”, he mumbled, while he hurriedly disappeared on a business trip lasting a few days. He was barely out the door when a desperate cry rang through the house. So, my little hobby had been found out. I had no income; I was as broke as a tomcat can be. ->

Sighing, with the burden of a disillusioned friendship on my shoulders, I shuffled to the window and starred into the garden. An ant trail had formed along the patio. They crawled in rank and file as if remote controlled and dragged all kinds of ballast on their delicate bodies. I would have to work, like an undignified stray; this thought went through my mind, while cold sweat froze on my forehead. But what?
Lost in thought I browsed through the newspaper, the Stone Age hard copy, towards the job advertisements. One headline caught my attention: Use your resources! Second Hand and Vintage are this year’s trends! How you can earn money with your wardrobe.
Second Hand sounded like museum, Vintage sounded a little fresher and resources were almost like music to my ears. Somehow more profitable.

With one dynamic bound I jumped to the laptop and typed “Vintage fashion for sale” into the friendly flashing search field. Seconds later I got to a platform that specialised in the purchase and sale of all kinds of brand stuff. We had accumulated more than enough brand stuff; it was only a matter of enhancing the treasure.
In the following hours I blustered through the house like a tomcat possessed, fishing out trench coats, intolerable shirts, shoes, fragrances, bags and several exquisite watches that had been slumbering in pretty little boxes to build a gigantic Vintage resources mountain.
What can I say, business boomed. The crowd was obviously crazy about this stuff. And it only took a few clicks from the living room. “Tomcat-Vintage”, immediately enjoyed an excellent reputation and as I had more or less sold everything that was superfluous, I bought and sold what the market demanded. ->

With a splendid profit, I’d like to add. After only two days I had earned so much that I was able to transfer a considerable sum onto Adam‘s account and the cleaning lady was putty in my paws, after I had bribed her with a chic Chanel bag and had offered her a raise for the extra work posting the parcels. I had become an extremely successful entrepreneur with just a few clicks.
At the end of the week Adam returned home radiant from his business trip and reported that his account had been completely balanced again. “The guy must have had a guilty conscience or he won the lottery ”, he said happily whistling to himself.
“Probably lottery”, I replied and crept on soft soles to my place at the window. I suddenly heard Adam‘s weak voice echoing from the empty walk-in closet: “Oh God, why is everything empty?”
“Maybe burglars”, I guessed full of sympathy and observed the industrious ants hard at work.

Copyrights: Manuela Dona

In the country at home!

Tips for outdoor guys

I am an outdoor guy, a tomcat, who acts naturally and sustainably in everything he does. Be it business, fashion, leisure time or food. I have even recently become a carefree, uncomplicated fellow with regard to my appearance. I have to admit that this was not always the case, but life gave me a deeper understanding of the meaning of a natural lifestyle!

Always sleeping on silk sheets, eating from the 5-star delicatessen and alcohol flowing in apocalyptic measures. Always only the very best, consumption was the greatest value in life for me and my can opener. I was fed up with this life.

One day I was sitting full and content at the window and I looked out into the garden of our upper-class hut that we called home.

Suddenly a tomcat entered into the boring setting of the perfectly trimmed lawn from the left. He was young, self-confident, held his head high with pride and promptly began to mark my green domain extensively. The scene captured such a level of animal power that I just stood and gaped.

Suddenly he looked me straight in the eye. The wild freedom that confronted me from his arrogant gaze was almost intolerable. He transfixed me for a few seconds, then slowly and provocatively turned his back on me and disappeared with one single, smooth jump over the wall.

Distraught I looked into the garden! My thoughts wandered to a time when I could only stand being indoors for a short while. Meadows, forests and lakes were my world, I could breathe, be active and always discover something new, women threw themselves at my feet. I was free!

The elation I experienced with these thoughts resounded so intensively within me that I immediately decided to reorder my life.

The first step was to enter the term „outdoor guy“ into the search engine and promptly place a large order from the online outdoor shop. One valuable „outdoor must-have“ after the next made its way into my virtual shopping cart from boots, cardigans and barefoot shoes to 5-star camping equipment.

Unsolicited recommendations from the www constantly hovered around.

DIY knotting instructions for a hammock, going vegan is masculine, the 50 hottest sex positions in the Kama Sutra, attain unimagined climaxes with a Tantra massage…

I froze, deleted the contents of the shopping cart, hit the computer a helpless angry blow and heard how it shattered loudly on the floor. In my head the film of my life was playing. What had become of me? After the intolerable realization, I opened the window and jumped with one smooth movement that epitomized the entire wildness of my species into the garden. A fine summer breeze stroked through my fur, it smelled of earth, grass, life was waiting at the corner and it stank overpoweringly of enemy. I heard Adam, my tin opener, calling anxiously from the window: „What is wrong with you?“

I gave him a brief, disparaging look and disappeared with one single wild leap over the wall. If I was going to be an outdoor guy then one hundred percent!

Black or White

BEYOND THE SILENCE. A SELF-EXPERIMENT.

I have no idea why I share my beautiful home with such an egotistic being, who can’t muster up even an iota of understanding for my situation and makes my life intolerable with his arrogance“, my can opener hurled these words at me with a flush of anger in his face. In your eyes things are either good or bad, valuable or worthless, beautiful or ugly, black or white. You think someone either has an athletic body or looks like a pudding, there is no second or third place, only first and last. I only hear the terms mediocrity or average from you when you are referring to someone else, because the world revolves around extremes in your opinion, without grey zones or colours.”
I simply don’t understand! Weeks before he had been so secretive and spoke in riddles. His secrecy was so obvious that it practically stank of a catastrophe. His behaviour set alarm bells ringing in my head, warning me in the shrillest tones of the approaching disaster. What was all this about? What was he up to? And then the moment of disclosure had obviously arrived. „So tell me, what do you think? He stuttered like an excited toddler. I really put a lot of thought into finding the best way to optimise our work-life balance! What do you think of our holiday destination this year? Only silence, spirituality and new stimuli. No responsibility and no stressful sightseeing-programme. I was speechless. He wanted to lock us up behind monastery walls, maybe even with an inclusive fasting, self-discovery and yoga course. I flashed my claws for a moment on a wild impulse, but, with our silk wallpaper in mind, just about managed to get them under control again. I struggled to keep my composure but gave nothing away. I slowly turned my back to him and walked out of the room in slow motion with my shoulders stooped and dragging my feet. On the threshold I said with a sepulchral voice: „You don’t seriously think that I’m going to spend my well-deserved holiday in a silent monastery just so you can work on your failed self-discovery fantasy!“ I definitely won’t spend the night in a barren cell and listen to you gnawing on a biscuit that you managed to smuggle in. After all I have certain standards. Besides, you won’t stay the course anyway. I’m going to book a holiday now that suits my status and my social standing on this planet. I’ll write you a postcard if you give me the address of your bunk!“ I then closed the door quietly from the other side and revelled in the astonished silence. But not for long. The screaming that followed, along the lines of the start of this text, could be heard three streets away and could only be quelled by an emergency visit from the doctor, a sedative injection and the subsequent administering of a double whiskey. „For goodness sake, man, pull yourself together, you’re stressing me out so much that I’d voluntarily go into a monastery to get away from your screaming! Life is one big pilgrimage“, I continued to convince him, while he cried in a whimpering voice and I rocked him in my arms like a baby, who simply does not want to understand. Real life is not black and white, it’s as colourful as we are!“

 

 

 

Copyrights © Manuela Dona

LIGHTNESS ON MY SKIN

A CAT CLEANS UP

Once again I am sitting elegantly on my hand embroidered cushion at the window and looking into the garden of our chic „upper class cabin“, while I allow myself the luxury of reflecting on the past few days and weeks. Today I am playing the tourist in the place I live. There are nooks and crannies that I don’t know yet. I simply start out and go on a journey of discovery…

The turn of the year this year was really challenging. Champagne, caviar and breath-taking fireworks, which nearly cost me my hearing and subsequently gave me a matt coat, had my stress level escalating into deep red.
Our pad was packed and as loud as an airport at the start of the holidays. One could see how little my can opener was troubled by all the attentiveness by the fact that he refused to believe that the whole world was crying out for deceleration and not for packing the hut full of 100 totally unknown friends of friends. I hate noise and I hate noisy pseudo merry people even more.

„No person is replaceable. Each one of us is made up of wonderful small details“, I add this thought, not entirely convinced, into a thought bubble that is hovering above me, but straight away there’s a loud „Plop“, the vision bursts and I see Adam in front of me. He is sitting on his new meditation cushion with a mad look in his eyes among a mountain of senseless presents while abusing my sensitive hearing with the nerve-racking sound of squeaking cellophane and listening to „Barry White whining“. I can picture George Michael turning in his grave!

I bare my claws! Why do human beings define everything and everyone through material possessions?

What makes us different from others is not what we receive but what we do with that which we have. (Nelson Mandela)

Why is he so attached to all this plunder, when it’s all about giving and receiving love. „We only buy things to distract ourselves, instead of creating order in our heads.“ I retracted my claws and clicked with my paw. Instead of constantly clinging to material possessions, we should do a desert run or clear out the attic. Suddenly everything appeared completely logical – if he couldn’t let go – I could! I began by clearing out the previously mentioned attic. Generations of meaningless presents, boxes with photos, books that were never read, clothes that had long gone out of fashion, yes even presents that had never been unpacked flew through the little skylight into the garden.

When I had finished with the attic, I continued downstairs. Adam’s walk-in closet, the shelves and cupboards emptied themselves noticeably. I became increasingly lighter inside with every piece that flew out the window. Finally it was the turn of the table clothes, curtains, cushions and the entire teak elephant collection. All Adam’s baggage, which had accumulated over the years, piled up in the garden to a formidable, flammable heap. Our previously luxurious house, decorated in Versace style, had been transformed into a barren monk’s cell, which desperately needed a touch of colour.

In a trancelike state I finished the job by tipping a litre bottle of lighter fuel over the whole heap making a really large, liberating bonfire! I felt it, the lightness on my skin. I felt free. Letting go was glorious! The fresh breeze stroked over my shiny fur, I felt needed!

The next memory is Adam, standing beside me and desperately trying to extinguish the blazing and smoking heap with the garden hose! I hear him call desperately: „For God’s sake tomcat, what have you done?“

And I answer: „Let go mate, you are loved for who you are! Aren’t you?“ Miaow!