Life is a series of trades. You trade money for goods, time for wages, safety for chance, the joy of solitude for the maintenance of friendship and on and on.
I traded freedom for the companionship of a cat. Became his slave. And he has a nasty, sharp tongue indeed. And it's getting louder and louder with the years. Possibly because he has become hard of hearing.
I traded the security of my house for the convenience of having a cat door so that the cat could go in and out without having to rouse me from whatever it is I might be doing at the time of his desire to change states.
That cat door led to a home invasion. I lay there on my bed, propped up by pillows, reading. The cat lay on my lower legs, using me as furniture -- as is his right as master of the house. Then he made a movement, and I looked down to see his sniffer at work. He sniffed the air and looked towards the window. Sniffed the air and looked the other way. He looked a little worried. I, personally, smelled nothing out of the ordinary, but then again cats have a much better sense of smell than we humans.
Did I hear something? Maybe. I leaned off my bed and looked out the door, down the hall ... and there he was, a home invader striding purposefully forward, not worried that this house belonged to someone else.
Behind me, my cat growled. He then sent me out, alone, to meet this impudent, grey-faced, white-shirted invader. At my cat's orders, I advanced with trepidation. The invader, seeing as he was outnumbered two-to-one (though my cat acted as a general in the background, sending his troops forward), turned about and retreated sedately, leaving through the cat door as if he made a practice of such activities.
My cat's sense of smell impressed me. He had sussed out the danger long before I did, and just in time. Another few seconds and the stranger would have made it all the way to my cat's food dish -- an unthinkable disaster.
I looked at that cat door for a long time. Had I made one trade too many? Then again, how did I know that my cat hadn't invited old Grey-and-White over for a party, and only my trading some about-town time for some at-home time had foiled his plans. Maybe the growl was for my benefit only. Did Grey-and-White then pass the word that the party was off? I'll likely never know. My cat, for one, isn't talking -- at least not about that.
We never know the unintended consequences of the trades we make.
I've traded hours and hours of my time to write stories that sometimes sell and often don't. One unintended consequence of this was a fan letter that led to a 20-year friendship. Well, I've completed another story, and have published it. Who knows what consequences will follow?
The novel relates the ongoing adventures of Clay and Colleen Yrden. Book 3 of The Yrden Chronicles.
Clay and Colleen trade their regular safe route for a chance to go into Damarg space, perhaps to open a new trade route. One has to wonder if they made one trade too many.
Coincidentally, that's the name of the book -- now available on Amazon.
One Trade Too Many: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PN1LDJW
I hope that those brave enough to trade some of their time for a story will find their trade a fair one. Just take care that you don't leave a door open for some stray cat to wander in. They may take over your home and life -- an unexpected consequence of getting wrapped up in a story to the extent that you stop paying attention to your surroundings.
My cat says that having a cat share your house is always a good trade. We may have a difference of opinion here. But, as he has just jumped up on my lap and started purring ferociously, who am I to say him nay?
Live the joy; pet the cat.
