Today, sitting in my car outside
the vet’s office waiting for my cat, I watch the cherry petals skim the street,
the warm wind of April. Daffodils in the gardens, tulips in planter boxes
outside the restaurants and cafés. But the cafés have big, hand-lettered signs
on their doors, instructions how to order by phone, how receive your fare
curbside. Much the same as I’m doing with my cat.
Doctor calls me on the phone,
interrupts my train of thought. I want to hear the news. She goes through her
findings, her recommendations. I say yes to one and that I’ll get back to her
about another, an ultrasound. Can I afford it now?
The vet assistant returns to the
car with the cat and a hand-held card machine. I put on my face covering and stick
in my card—she never touches it. We chat for a minute: Are you doing okay? Are you staying safe? I thank her for being
there in such a difficult time and am on my way. I pull out from my parking
place effortlessly. There is barely any traffic.
My cat seems better when I get
home. I wash my hands and take off my shoes while he eats his medicine and goes
for a nap. I sit down at the computer to write, but all I can do is think.
For me, little has changed with
the onset of the pandemic. I work at home, self-isolate by choice. In some
ways, this suits me, since now I no longer must go outside... ever! (Except to
take kitty to the vet) But though my life goes on much as normal, a
multi-layered gloom hangs above me, squelching all joy that could be had.
Uncertainty, fear, anger, change. I can only imagine how things will end.
And imagine I can because I am a
fiction writer. I can envision both dystopia and paradise. The pandemic and all
its many-tentacled effects causing the downfall of civilization. The pandemic, kick-starting
a new age where people finally pull together. It’s already happening. Where
some are looting and plundering, others are banding together in ways I never thought
I’d see. I try not to let the dark side take me, try to stay firmly in sight of
the light.
I have been writing during this
time. I even started a new book-to-be-a-series, something I haven’t done for a
decade or more.
·
And I’m putting my Crazy Cat Lady Cozy Mysteries
out in large print and fully revising the first three.
·
And I’m working on a forgotten manuscript from
the late nineties, updating the writing and content.
·
And Cat
Conundrum, the next in the CCL series is with the beta reader.
·
And Cat
Winter, the next in the Cat Seasons Tetralogy, is with my editor.
·
And Adventure
Cat first draft (CCL#8) is about half way to finished.
When I look at this list, I see
there is a madness to it. Maybe I’m afraid if civilization crumbles, no one
will read books anymore. Maybe I want to get it all done before I die. Maybe I
just want to hide myself in fantasy.
I’ve noticed something funny as
I write, an awareness of the current social distancing practices and stay home
decrees. I was working on a party scene when I found myself glowering at all
those folks hanging so close together. Didn’t they know they should be at
least six feet apart? And in street scene, I wondered, Why they aren’t wearing
their face protectors? All those naked faces, all those possibilities of
contagion and death. But my stories aren’t
set in the Covid-19 universe, I remind myself. Those things don’t apply. Still, it’s greatly on my mind.
I have no intention whatsoever
of writing about a pandemic. I’ll leave the Zombie Apocalypse to writers better
suited to tell that tale. I’m sticking to my cozy mysteries and an occasional
fantasy where cats save the world (and not from plague). But even as I sit at
my computer, cat on lap (helping), I am battered by what’s going on outside.
I am praying a lot. Praying for those
who are sick and for their loved ones. For those working in dangerous
situations. For those whose money is running out, whose job is lost, whose only
hope is help from the government that is too little too late. I pray for those
with anxiety, depression, and PTSD who now are left alone in their darkness. For
the elderly who depend on others for their wellbeing.
I also have a special prayer for
those who think Covid is a hoax or a game or just don’t care if they spread
death, because someday they may realize their mistake and be haunted by it. For
those who see this crisis as a commercial opportunity, whether thief or
businessman. (I pray they get what they deserve, and I’m not talking about
money.)
Most of all, I pray something
good will come of this.
Stay safe. Do good. See beauty.
Feel joy.
One last note: I just added
Covid to my Spell-check dictionary. Times alight with change.
About Mollie Hunt: Native Oregonian Mollie Hunt has always had
an affinity for cats, so it was a short step for her to become a cat writer. Mollie
Hunt writes the Crazy Cat Lady cozy
mystery series featuring Lynley Cannon, a sixty-something cat shelter
volunteer who finds more trouble than a cat in catnip, and the Cat Seasons sci-fantasy tetralogy where
cats save the world. She also pens a bit of cat poetry.
Mollie is a
member of the Oregon Writers’ Colony, Sisters in Crime, the Cat Writers’ Association,
and NIWA. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and a varying number
of cats. Like Lynley, she is a grateful shelter volunteer.
@MollieHuntCats
