Little Cat Paws

So I was saying, the cat.

Now what in the hell is he going on about now? I heard you say.

I talking about the audio book I am supposed to be doing as a tie-in with my ebook and paperback.

Now the good news in all of this is with fifteen years running a murder mystery repertory company. I do have experience, which means I am not looking for a narrator other than me. Saves a ton of money, (I work cheap, have a lot of time, and the equipment to do the job.)

Plug: I got a Jim-Dandy Elegiant condenser mic for the cost of four lattes and it works like a charm.

So I have all the equipment, the time, the ability, there’s only one thing missing, quiet.

Yes, I never noticed before but the average house is a thunderous place. The dishwasher, (Even though the Long-Sufferin bought a super quiet Bosch), the clothes washer, the dryer, the television, the radio and the cat.

Of all of these, the cat is the Spawn of Satan.

I was recording the other day, had a great run going, was on the last page of four difficult pages and yes, the cat started yowling.

I could have done murder.

He didn’t know and was just voicing an opinion of the lack of entertaining things for a cat to get into, so you can hardly blame him. But at that point I did.

Now I happen to have a nuisance of cats. For those unfamiliar with the term, that’s more than one and less than enough to qualify as a crazy cat-lady, cat-person. And most of the time I love the little fur-balls.

People without animals just don’t get it. You can spend hours watching them play and chase and scramble and fight and be endlessly entertained. You can pet them until they rumble and your blood pressure is down to zero. You can snuggle on a cold night/day/anytime and they will put up with you even when the Long Sufferin won’t.

They are the perfect antidote to Covid claustrophobia, they will love you when all else is terrified to get within a hundred yards of your rotting, diseased carcass.

But contrary to the mad poet who claimed “Dawn crept in on little cat paws” they are louder than a house Moose. In fact I’m pretty sure a Moose would be less trouble. Okay you got me there, there is no such thing as a moose box. But aside form hygienic considerations, cats are louder that the 1812 Overture.

And when you are trying to get a clean audio clip, noise is the enemy.

Oh, did I mention that it really should be a video clip? Yes, all this recording without the video is pretty much useless, cause the Kids have to have video to keep their attention. And even if I get the cooperation of the cats, my idea of a video is never going to make a sensation on YouTube.

I mean, just think, I’m flogging a book. There are no wailing guitars, semi-naked girls gyrating, long-haired boys in pants tight enough to cause gangrene to the reproductive system. Flashing strobes or a soundtrack loud enough to be heard in the Afterlife. Just a bewildered writer reading from his novel, hoping to catch some traffic when the battery on their Ipad/Iphone/Igaming console runs down.

That’s a big ask and a forlorn hope, but it has to be done cause as a first-time novelist, I have no fan base.

So I am back at it waiting this time on my prop to arrive in the mail from the wonderful Aladdin's cave Amazon. Okay so I know there are those who do not like Amazon and its founder Jeff Bezos, billionaire, space cadet, world domination seeker and entrepreneur. But I am not on that team.

Here at the edge of the world I would be left to discovering fire all over again if not for Amazon and its answer to just about everything.

But that is a take for another campfire. So it is back to the recording studio trying to get an even cleaner copy while waiting on my mystery prop. And dodging the cat.