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Ny kat, dag 5

// November 17th, 2010 // No Comments » // Beretninger

Vi er ved at have en rytme nu. Selma begynder at pusle og mijave ved 5-tiden, jeg står op 6.30.

Jeg gik ned ad trappen og hun spaserer ud fra køkkenet. Så var der morgen-nus og endda lidt leg med bold på gulvet. Hun tog sig også lige en ordenlig tår af Max’ vandskål.

Hun er helt klart ved at vænne sig til mig og spinder glad. Synet af Max får hende stadig til at stivne. Men hun løber ikke væk mere. Jeg tror hun har ramt ham med den spidse ende, for han holder afstand, selvom det er tydeligt, at han gerne vil hilse på. Således ville han faktisk ikke gå ned ad trappen, da jeg skulle afsted, fordi hun sad på et trin.

Trappen er blevet hendes foretrukne sted. Der kan man ligge med udsyn over stuen, men stadig tæt på 1. Salen, hvor hun føler sig mest hjemme.

Ny kat, dag 4

// November 16th, 2010 // No Comments » // Beretninger

Da jeg svingede cyklen ind i vores indkørsel kunne jeg høre Max kø. Jeg tænkte: hvordan satan har han kunne høre mig?! Og var allerede i mit bedste “mor er skuffet”-humør over den larm, der kom inde fra vores hus. Men sært nok stod han ikke VED døren kunne jeg se gennem vinduet.

Nå, mig ind. Jeg har en kammeratlig samtalte med Max om larmen, mens jeg tager støvlerne af. Jeg skal op at skifte til løbetøj, så retrieveren kan løbe krudtet af, men halvvejs oppe møder jeg katten på et trin. Den sidder i sin sædvanlige “jeg er lukket om  mig selv”-positur, men den sidder lige der midt på trappen! Ude i lyset! Ikke under et møbel. Kæmpe fremgang! Det må have været den Max gøede af.

Hun er tydeligvis lidt stresset af situationen og gisper let. Jeg sætter mig på et trin og begynder den store nussetur, mens jeg taler optimistisk til hende. Det virker, og hun bløder op og begynder at spinde. Max sidder pænt for enden af trappen og venter. Han vil tydeligvis gerne være med, men nu gælder det om at holde den gode oplevelse kørende.

Da vi kommer tilbage fra løbeturen, sidder hun der stadig, så jeg smider en skål mad hen til hende, da Max også skal have mad. Det var en succes. Mens jeg spiser, trækker hun sig imidlertid ovenpå, og jeg finder hende i computerrummet. I hjørnet. Men hun er let at lokke frem nu og begynder at vimse rundt. Nu har hun også overskud til at vaske sig, det har jeg heller ikke set før.

Max er tydeligvis stadig det værste hun ved, men jeg har gode forhåbninger om, at det nok skal komme til at gå. Ene og alene fordi han er sådan en pokkers god hund!

Ny kat, dag 3

// November 15th, 2010 // No Comments » // Beretninger

Vel hjemme fra arbejde kunne jeg konstatere at Selma stadig lå under sofaen. Helt over i fjerneste hjørne. Jeg trak sofaen ud en 20.30 centimeter, så jeg kunne tale med hende. Hun var middelmådigt interesseret i den tun jeg tilbød, men var helt med på nus. Hun er en værre kælegris. Hver gang Max rørte en muskel ved siden af mig stoppede hun dog lige op for at tjekke, om kræet var på vej hen over rælingen og ned i hovedet på hende.

Hun vekslede mellem at ville nusse og ville sidde inde under sofaen og murre. Til sidst lod jeg hende i fred og satte mig til at læse. Pludselig futtede hun ud fra under sofaen, ud midt på gulvet, forbi fjernsynet og op ad trappen. Max lå med alle 4 stænger i vejret og sov, så han bemærkede hende ikke.

Da vi gik i seng havde hun lagt sig under sengen i gæsteværelset. Men hun futtede igen rundt i natten. Hun havde spist en ordenlig portion mad, kunne jeg se næste morgen. Og jeg havde også hørt hende kalde ved 5-tiden, meeen det natteroderi skulle jo nødig blive en vane.

Ny kat, dag 2

// November 14th, 2010 // No Comments » // Beretninger

Da vi vågnede næste dag, troede jeg egentlig at katten stadig ville være i transportkassen på gæsteværelset. Men der tog jeg fejl. Hun var væk! Jeg ledte overalt, men kunne ikke finde hende. Det kunne Max imidlertid. Hun sad under trappen – heeelt inde i hjørnet og forsøgte at falde i et med den hvide væg. Kunne hun have krøbet IND i væggen, så havde hun gjort det. Hun gispede og spiste intet af det mad vi lagde til hende. Vi lod hende være. Så der lå hun uden at røre en muskel – også da vi skulle i seng.

Men så om natten skete der noget. Eller rettere det var klokken 5 om morgenen. Hun begyndte at mijave. At kalde. Jeg stog op og listede ud på gangen og i mørket kunne jeg se, at hun sad på trappen. Halvvejs oppe. Da jeg kom ud te hun stille, men jeg begyndte at snakke med hende og langsomt begyndte hun at sige noget igen. Små bjæf, som en søløve.

Jeg satte mig for enden af trappen og fortsatte min katte-pludren, men hun blev hvor hun var. Der gik vel 10 minutter og jeg havde faktisk besluttet mig for at rejse mig og gå i seng, da jeg pludselig kunne se, at hun gik et par trin længere op mod mig. Få minutter senere tog hun det sidste stykke i en laaang bue udenom mig. Jeg blev sidende, og kort efter smøg hun sig tæt forbi mig, vendte og kom helt tæt på med en typisk katte-gnubben. Og så var isen brudt. Der skulle nusses nu, skulle der. Helst i hovedet og hun spandt som et lille savværk.

Jeg har besluttet mig for at det er en hun-mis. Men jeg er nu faktisk ikke helt sikker…

Vi drog nordpå, og fandt en kat

// November 13th, 2010 // No Comments » // Beretninger

Et hjem uden en kat, er et hjem uden en kat. Og det går virkelig ikke. Siden vi drog til Sverige har jeg savnet at blive stirret nedladende på og behandlet med komplet ligegyldighed. På nær selvfølgelig når der er mad eller nus i farvandet. Vi fandt Sveriges svar på Kattens Værn, Kattkommando Syd! Og med sådan et navn er det jo tydeligt, at they mean business! Vi hørte på et par katte først, som det så ikke kunne blive, og jeg havde egentlig skrevet, at jeg havde besluttet mig for at vente til efter jul. Men så skrev de tilbage, at der var en kat, der akut havde brug for et sted at være. Selma.

I noget tid havde hun åbenbart futtet rundt i et boligkvarter uden et hjem og nu var fodring altså blevet forbudt. Vinteren nærmer sig og gode råd er dyre, så kunne vi tage katten? Det kunne vi self! Det viste sig, at den ældre dame, der havde fodret katten nu også havde taget den indenfor i et seperat rum væk fra hendes andre katte, som ikke lige brød sig om nybyggeren. Damen og Selma boede i Ljungby, men vi tilbød at køre derop at hente den, for Christian ELSKER jo at køre og desuden var det tydeligt for enhver kort-kigger, at Ljungby ligger midt i Mummi-land. Det skulle self opleves!

Afsted drog vi og lagde hårdt ud med en mindre GPS-smutter, der tog os til Båstad (dér bor ingen fattige mennesker). Pæn by. Besat af tennis og smørebrød. Og vinterbadning så det ud til. Sikkert fabelagtigt om sommeren. Det er taget ad notam. Vi lagde Båstad bag os og drejede skarp til højre indlands. Hen til trægrænsen. Der hvor civilisationen stopper og Mummi-land begynder. Nu er der muligvis nogen, der vil mene at Mummierne kun bor i de finske skove, men det er jo indlysende at nogle af dem må have krydset grænsen. Turen gennem skovene var en flashback til USA. Laaange lige veje og få andre biler på tur. Ljungby var faktisk ok størrelse og tydeligvis området “storby”.

Vi fandt frem til det lille rækkehus, hvor katten angiveligt skulle være. Undefor stod en mindre dame med langt hår og joggingsæt og røg. Vi identificerede os og hun lyste op i et kæmpesmil. Det viste sig at være datteren til den ældre dame, der boede i rækkehuset og som altså havde taget katten ind. Aina hedder hun. Hun var en tynd gråhåret dame i 70′erne. Sød og livlig og med et stort hjerte for katte. Hun havde selv to og nu altså også Selma, den herreløse.

Vi blev budt på kaffe og småkager – og da jeg jo ikke drikker kaffe, så måtte jeg have et glas Julmost! Det smager lidt som en blanding mellem Cola og hvidtøl! Den er et kæmpe hit i Sverige ved juletid, og der findes også en tilsvarende de så drikker til påske. Skik følge eller…drik kaffe. Det var tydeligt, at et eller andet skulle man da have! Så ned gled mosten.

Aina er nummer 11 ud af en børneflok på 14! Hun stammer fra Skåne, men er altså nu endt mere nordlig. Hendes mand døde for 10 år siden og selvom hendes hørelse og syn ikke var, hvad det havde været, så var hun i vældig godt humør. Hun spøgte med, at naboen var et plejehjem, så der var ikke så langt, når nu den tid kom. Hun var meget bekymret for hvordan det nu skulle gå med katten, men mest var hun bare glad for at den fik et hjem. Hun fortalte, at den var kommet til nabolaget sidste år – da var den ikke ret stor. Hendes nabo som på det tidspunkt var en dame med i nærheden af 20 katte tog sig af den, men den var stadig ude det meste af tiden. Senere flyttede hun og efterlod katten. Der havde vist været en vældig stank fra det hus. Aina begyndte jo så at fodre den, men kunne  jo ikke have den selv og så gik jagten på en løsning ind.

Hun var ikke sikker på om det var en hun eller en han. Hun havde egentlig troet det var en hun og kaldt den Maja, men nu var hun ikke så sikker mere. Vi kunne heller ikke rigtig beslutte os. Vi fik 2 transportkasser med hjem. 1 hvor lågen var i – den var til rejsen. Og 1 hvor lågen manglede – den var bare til katten, for den kunne hun godt li at ligge i. Derudover fik vi også noget mad med. Der manglede ikke noget – slet ikke hjertevarme.

Hende og datteren havde et fantastisk samspil – de så tydeligvis meget ofte hinanden.

Selma/Maja/han/hun var ikke vild efter at komme ned i transportkassen, men det kom den dog alligevel og turen hjem gik aldeles uden problemer. Den sagde ikke en lyd og rørte sig ikke af flækken.

Vel hjemme i Klagshamn stillede vi kassen på sengen i gæsteværelset og åbnede lågen. Det var hun da ligeglad med. Hun skulle ingen steder. Ved sengetid sad hun der endnu, så der lod vi hende pænt være. Mad og tissekasse indenfor rækkevidde.

Pamflet – mit alter ego, del 1

// February 25th, 2009 // No Comments » // Beretninger

Jeg har jo spillet WoW i mange år, men kun de sidste par år, er jeg begyndt at roleplaye – dvs. lade som om jeg faktisk ER en lille gnom, der bor i Ironforge, bærer rundt på et stort sværd og fifler med ingeniør-arbejde i min fritid,  når jeg spiller og møder andre spillere. Det vil sige, hvis jeg møder nogen i spillet, der spørger hvad jeg hedder, så siger jeg ikke Lea, men Pamflet, for det hedder min karakter, nemlig. Det er simpelthen så mega sjovt, og nu er jeg også kommet med i et guild, der dyrker RP’ing også.

Roleplaying kan lidt sammenlignes med dukketeater. Man har en lille figur som man flytter rundt med og som siger og gør en masse ting, fordi sådan er HUN nu engang. Min lille gnom er fx ordensmenneske og meget lattermild. Enhver god roleplayer har derfor en baggrundshistorie til sin karakter, så man ligesom har en komplet personlighed at øffe rundt med på scenen. Jeg har brugt en del krudt på at skrive Pamflets historie og haft det rigtig sjovt med det. Det er ikke altid lige let, fordi man også er nødt til at kende den historie, som spillet baserer sig på – fx er gnomer først voksne, når de er 40 år gamle. Til gengæld kan de blive noget ældre end mennesker omend ikke ligeså gamle som dværge og elvere. Gnomerne er dværgenes nærmeste allierede og de elsker mekanik. Og så har der været en hel del krige i WoW’s univers. Alt det skal man jo lige huske, når man skrive sin karakters historie, for ellers bliver det jo bare noget sludder

Jeg vil poste Pamflets historie her på alabast i bidder, så jeg kan gemme den og hygge mig med den om mange år, når jeg spiller noget helt helt andet

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Just a short letter to let you know, how I am doing. We arrived at Menethil harbour last night. It was a long walk over the mountains and our sergeant really made us work for it. I think we got but two hours of sleep in 48 hours. And the snow was so high, I had trouble moving forward. Luckily I had with me the ultra light flexible snow shoes we crafted before I went away, and I can tell you right now that they are a great success! In our short breaks I used the build in heat to toast a few pieces of bread with out the use of fire! It was a smashing hit among my fellow soldiers. The toothpaste dispenser however, was a bad idea. It freezes solid and is only making the shoes heavier. I have already made alterations in the blueprints for a new pair. I will have to tinker a bit with them, when I get home.

We are at the inn now. It is great to finally be inside in some lose clothes and with a hot cup of tea. Tomorrow is the first day of the actual training exercise. There are troops everywhere here. Dwarves, gnomes, humans and elves. The elves and the humans have formed a large group who are all wearing red stribes on their sleeves. They play one side of the conflict – we are the other side. They are just moving out in to the marsh now. My group’s mission is to scout them out first thing tomorrow. It’s a very important role, since everybody else will be acting on our information. I think the sergeant is a bit nervous, but I have every faith in my newly invented spyglass and your transmission device. We will surely succeed.

There is a bit of tension here though. I mean, we know it is a drill, but everybody feels the growing darkness. We know it will not be long before war is upon us. It seems inevitable. If it comes, I am ready though. I will make you proud, father.

Your loving daughter
Pamflet

PS I send to you an imprint of me and Dolfi. Isn’t it amazing?! I met a gnome here yesterday, who had build the image shooting device himself. I saw the blueprints too. Very inspiring!

PPS: Try not to make too much of a mess with the blueprints and give Knap a big hug from her sister!

Balta Boomstick puts down the letter from his daughter with a sigh and takes off his glasses. He gets out a handkerchief from his pocket, blows his nose and quickly dries his eyes as if the hanky was going that way anyway, before putting it back in his pocket.

He sits in a chair by the fire in a small circular living room. Close by is a lifting device to the 1st floor and at the other end is a large drawing table covered in blueprints. He is a middle-aged gnome with thin hair and a well kept moustache. His hands are rough and bear witness to his hard work in the shop. The visibly burdened gnome gets up from his chair and makes his way to the drawing table. The blueprints are everywhere. On the table, on the chair even on the floor. He starts moving them around without actually sorting anything out. Then he gives up and sits in the chair with a thump.

“Ach, it is no use,” he mutters to himself. “Without my little Pamflet everything is a mess.”

He smiles at the nickname, his daughter has had for so many years now. They both tend to forget that her name is actually Tók. He started calling her Pamflet because she very early on demonstrated a nag for order. Even before she started helping out for real in the shop, she made herself useful by sorting his blueprints out and writing small recaps arranged in little books. The shop is filled with them now, since she never stopped doing it. He chuckles at the thought.

It seems like only yesterday he build this little house just outside Gnomeregan and took over his father’s shop inside their beloved city. His wife, Thelma. had arranged it all and they had just about settled in and started a good business crating Boomsticks for the dwarves, when Pamflet was born. Nothing was the same after that. She came and lit up his world and quite early started tidying it up too. He chuckles to himself. She became his apprentice in the shop from the beginning and helped out with everything from bringing home the ore to actually designing new products. She was such a fast learner and much more structured than him. Also her strength was amazing! That girl had the strength of a dwarf! He never understood where it came from. Nevertheless he wouldn’t let her partake in the actual mining at first, but then she just kept busy in other ways.

She became his self proclaimed bodyguard. He remembered laughing when he bought her the little sword, she requested, and she started following him around on mining trips with a grim look on her face, striking out at every rabbit that came too close. But eventually she became something of a swordsman and they got more daring, fighting off both wolves and trolls to get to the good ore in caves. Before she was 25 Pamflet’s sword had grown to be bigger than her and she too was mining. She started going mining alone in the years that followed. She was both stronger and more efficient than him because of her fighting skills, so he could concentrate on the work in the shop. It was a great help.

Pamflet literally had an arsenal of swords and axes by then. She had struck up a strong friendship with a young dwarven weaponsmith, Dolfi. They were always together. When they were not testing blades, they were testing elaborate fishing equipment – Pamflet’s first solo inventions were all related to fishing.

The old man bursts out in loud laughter at the thought of the enormous device, the pair headed out with one morning. It was a fishing pole of such elaborate scale; the damn thing was on wheels. It had everything. Chair with cousins, cup holder, tea maker, sandwich builder-add on – complete with live chicken for the eggs, automated line casting, a self cast net and of course…a distillery. The latter was Dolfi’s idea. On their first trip the brewing beer-bottles exploded and left the fishing device in an irreparable state. Balta Boomsticks laughs to himself and mutters: “ah well, that’s what happens when you let a dwarf in on the engineering.”

A few good years pasted like this, but then war was upon them. The second war. Pamflet and him got busy in the shop when the demand for boomsticks rocketed – so busy they forgot to be careful…

Balta Boomstick gets up from his chair and reaches out for a photograph on the table before sitting down again. Thelma. He would never forgive himself. But worse, neither would Pamflet. And really it could never be her responsibility – she was just a large child of 31 when it happened. But she never could let it go.

The shop was so busy that day. The dwarves were heading out the following morning and 200 boomsticks were still missing from the order. It was going to be an all nighter. Thelma was home alone with dear little Knap, when a close dwarven friend, Vandar Hammertoe, came by with a special request. He was off to war the next day and he wanted to do the right thing and marry his girlfriend, before he went away. He needed a ring, and Thelma was an excellent jewel smith. Also she was a sucker for romance, so his story hit home right away.

Unfortunately there was no more gold ore on stock, and Thelma didn’t want to disturb. She was always so considerate. So she ended up putting on her warmest clothes to go out mining alone. She only needed a little bit of gold, and there was an ore near by.

When Thelma didn’t come back and Vandar had waited two hours, he took the little one by the hand and came to the shop. Balta Boomstick still remembered Pamflet’s face, when the dwarf came through the door. It grew pale white, and before Vandar had even finished the story, she grabbed her sword and ran out of the shop. She knew.

The gold ore was close to the yeti cave and thus very dangerous to mine, which is why Pamflet was always the one mining that. She just hadn’t had the time to do so in a while. Thelma probably thought it would be ok, since it was growing dark when she left and the yetis usually retreat to their cave for the night. But this day, they must have been late.

Balta strokes his moustache as he recalls the next few hours. He got together a few friends with guns and blades and headed out after Pamflet. When they got to the cave it was pitch dark, but in front of it was a bonfire and beside that, Thelma lay dead in the snow. Pamflet had wrapped her up in her own wolf fur cape, and as Thelma lay there in the night, the orange light from the fire, made her look like an angel.

They found Pamflet further into the cave. She was in a trance, killing every single yeti, she came across. Noone was spared and the yetis’ roars could be heard from far away. He could not stop her. Noone could. She had painted her face with blood and had a determination and hatred in her eyes that scared him and the others. So they left her. The others took Knap home, but he sat down at the bonfire with his dead wife by his side and waited for their first born. She didn’t come out till the next morning, covered in blood. When she saw him, she burst into tears and they stood there holding each other, sobbing for a long time.

Balta Boomstick sits glaring aimlessly at the same spot overwhelmed by the memories. After a while, he snaps out of it and gets up from the chair.

“Ai, and then came the war and we lost so much more. And now it seems, dark times are upon us again.” He glances at The Gnomeregan Times, which has a large article on the front page regarding the scourge and the looming threat to all mortals in this world.

If this business does not die out, the mortals of this world will have to act, and Pamflet now a fully educated soldier will be sure to see battle. He knows this. Even if she is very young. Too young in his opinion. A battlefield is no place for a 48 year old gnome. No sir! He shakes his head.

He has moved to the middle of the room when the door flies open and a small brown eyed gnome girl runs in, waving an envelope.

“Dad! There is a letter from Pamflet!” The young one yells in an exited tone of voice.

“What?” ”But I just read….” Balta points at the opened letter behind him as if to explain, but gives up and grabs the new letter from his bouncing child. He opens it with a sense of ill omen, his hands shaking.

Dear father

I know, I just sent a letter yesterday, but so much has happened since. I don’t have a lot of time. Just to tell you that my group has been chosen for a recon-unit, heading out on a real mission immediately! It’s this undead plague. It seems unstoppable, spreading ever more rapidly. Prince Arthas himself has sent word that it is time for the alliance to act. My unit is to be send out first to scout the infected areas and possibly find the source. I fear war is eminent. You better start mining for the boomsticks right away. I am very proud to have been chosen, and I have Dolfi with me, so don’t worry! We will be fine! And we will make you proud. Give my love to Knap.

Your daughter Pamflet