Millie was once just the 'evil cat' that lived in our house, the one we rescued from
one of those Free Kitten boxes outside a local department store. She was a
gray-and-peach calico, with a peach arrow mark on the top of her head. In the
winter, when she spent most of her time indoors, she liked to terrorize our other
cats, especially Eleanor, because Ellie would never even consider fighting back
– she just ran and hid. In the summer, when most of her time was spent
outdoors, she chased rodents, and brought home her victories. (Some dead,
some not; a few whole, but most…well…otherwise.)
She was mean to people as well as cats, as my Dad had discovered the hard
way the day she bit his hand and gave him a gash that took two weeks to heal.
Then one day, I made a shocking discovery; one that would change Millie in my
eyes forever. This is how it happened…
My dad had just bought a DVD player, something we had never had before.
He'd been renting lots of DVD's from the video club he belonged to, trying to
prove, I guess, that the machine had not been a totally useless purchase, as
Mom was inclined to think. One night he rented a movie called Highlander for
them to watch, and he suggested I watch it too. I'd never heard of it before, but
having nothing much better to do, I decided I'd see what it was about. Heck, I
though, I can always leave if I don't like it. Mom mentioned to me what a 'hunk'
she thought the guy who played the Highlander was, but I didn't pay much
attention and really didn't care.
But, despite the prospect of having Mom bug me about whether I thought this
actor-guy was cute, (I'd never seen an actor I thought was worth looking at
twice) I went downstairs and watched the movie anyway. Millie watched it too,
from a comfortable seat on my lap, and every time I looked at her she was
showing her fangs. I could have sworn she was laughing.
According to Dad, the movie was "dumb, with no storyline," and according to
Mom, it was "one of 'those' movies: stupid and pointless." Nobody asked me
what I thought, and frankly I'm glad they didn't, because who knows what they
would have thought of my answer: "That was the best movie I have ever seen.
What a story!" Part of the reason I liked it so much was that I had somewhat of
an addiction to high-action movies, and that had been nothing if not action-
oriented. The other thing I liked so much was the base concept: writing stories
was my hobby, and I was always looking for new and different ideas. I found the
idea of people who don't die fascinating. And I had to admit, Mom had had a
point: the Highlander was pretty cute.
I found out a lot about the story of Highlander just by watching the movie,
despite never having heard of it before. Basically, the Highlander (whose name
is Duncan MacLeod) is an immortal. Many other immortals exist, too, although
nobody except the Watchers knows exactly how many. The ultimate goal of
some, though not all of them, is to wipe out the rest and become the only one
left, which will leave the survivor with immense power. Sword fighting is a way of
life for them, because there is only one way to kill an immortal: behead them.
The more kills a particular immortal makes, the more powerful he becomes,
through events called Quickenings, where all the powers of the dead immortal
become part of the immortal who killed him. Their motto is "There can be only
one."
Anyway, back to Millie…one July day, I walked out onto the porch to water my
plants, and found yet another mangled piece of a dead rodent – handiwork of
dearest Millie.
"Mom!" I called. "Another rodent!"
"Oh, gee," was the reply. "Dead or alive?"
"Barely recognizable as a mammal," I retorted.
Mom snorted. "What a rarity!" (We're presented with those at least twice a day
in the summer – sometimes more. If I ever need a dead rodent for something –
or part of one, at least – I won't have to go far.)
I walked back inside, put the plant-watering jug back under the kitchen sink,
and plopped down on the sofa. Mom was putsing around the kitchen, probably
making dinner. That's always the first place to look for my Mom – in the kitchen.
Cooking is not only her college degree, it's her hobby. She knows almost
everything there is to know about food, and she's a great cook – even though
some of her dishes are bound to bomb once in a while. Hey, everybody's do
sometimes.
"I've got it!" she suddenly exclaimed, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to
her. "I've solved the mystery!"
"What mystery?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to think of a mystery we'd been
trying to solve.
"The mystery," she replied, "of why Mil's kills are always beheaded: she's an
immortal!"
I laughed so hard at that, I thought I'd fall of the couch. Millie! An immortal!
What an idea.
"Where does she keep her sword?" I joked. "And how'd she find a trench coat
small enough to fit her?"
"Hmmm…" Mom said. "She must keep her sword under the porch. And of
course she would have had the coat specially made."
At that moment, Millie herself appeared from upstairs.
"Yes, Millie," I said to her. "Yes, we're talking about you. We've found out your
secret…where'd you learn to fence, anyway?"
She twitched her tail at me as if to say, how dare you accuse me of such a
thing? I would never sink to that level of bloodletting. Where are your manners?
"Just kidding, Mil," I assured her. "We were joking about all your neatly
beheaded rodents."
She graced that comment by stalking outside and showing up fifteen minutes
later with…you guessed it…another half a rodent.
* * *
one of those Free Kitten boxes outside a local department store. She was a
gray-and-peach calico, with a peach arrow mark on the top of her head. In the
winter, when she spent most of her time indoors, she liked to terrorize our other
cats, especially Eleanor, because Ellie would never even consider fighting back
– she just ran and hid. In the summer, when most of her time was spent
outdoors, she chased rodents, and brought home her victories. (Some dead,
some not; a few whole, but most…well…otherwise.)
She was mean to people as well as cats, as my Dad had discovered the hard
way the day she bit his hand and gave him a gash that took two weeks to heal.
Then one day, I made a shocking discovery; one that would change Millie in my
eyes forever. This is how it happened…
My dad had just bought a DVD player, something we had never had before.
He'd been renting lots of DVD's from the video club he belonged to, trying to
prove, I guess, that the machine had not been a totally useless purchase, as
Mom was inclined to think. One night he rented a movie called Highlander for
them to watch, and he suggested I watch it too. I'd never heard of it before, but
having nothing much better to do, I decided I'd see what it was about. Heck, I
though, I can always leave if I don't like it. Mom mentioned to me what a 'hunk'
she thought the guy who played the Highlander was, but I didn't pay much
attention and really didn't care.
But, despite the prospect of having Mom bug me about whether I thought this
actor-guy was cute, (I'd never seen an actor I thought was worth looking at
twice) I went downstairs and watched the movie anyway. Millie watched it too,
from a comfortable seat on my lap, and every time I looked at her she was
showing her fangs. I could have sworn she was laughing.
According to Dad, the movie was "dumb, with no storyline," and according to
Mom, it was "one of 'those' movies: stupid and pointless." Nobody asked me
what I thought, and frankly I'm glad they didn't, because who knows what they
would have thought of my answer: "That was the best movie I have ever seen.
What a story!" Part of the reason I liked it so much was that I had somewhat of
an addiction to high-action movies, and that had been nothing if not action-
oriented. The other thing I liked so much was the base concept: writing stories
was my hobby, and I was always looking for new and different ideas. I found the
idea of people who don't die fascinating. And I had to admit, Mom had had a
point: the Highlander was pretty cute.
I found out a lot about the story of Highlander just by watching the movie,
despite never having heard of it before. Basically, the Highlander (whose name
is Duncan MacLeod) is an immortal. Many other immortals exist, too, although
nobody except the Watchers knows exactly how many. The ultimate goal of
some, though not all of them, is to wipe out the rest and become the only one
left, which will leave the survivor with immense power. Sword fighting is a way of
life for them, because there is only one way to kill an immortal: behead them.
The more kills a particular immortal makes, the more powerful he becomes,
through events called Quickenings, where all the powers of the dead immortal
become part of the immortal who killed him. Their motto is "There can be only
one."
Anyway, back to Millie…one July day, I walked out onto the porch to water my
plants, and found yet another mangled piece of a dead rodent – handiwork of
dearest Millie.
"Mom!" I called. "Another rodent!"
"Oh, gee," was the reply. "Dead or alive?"
"Barely recognizable as a mammal," I retorted.
Mom snorted. "What a rarity!" (We're presented with those at least twice a day
in the summer – sometimes more. If I ever need a dead rodent for something –
or part of one, at least – I won't have to go far.)
I walked back inside, put the plant-watering jug back under the kitchen sink,
and plopped down on the sofa. Mom was putsing around the kitchen, probably
making dinner. That's always the first place to look for my Mom – in the kitchen.
Cooking is not only her college degree, it's her hobby. She knows almost
everything there is to know about food, and she's a great cook – even though
some of her dishes are bound to bomb once in a while. Hey, everybody's do
sometimes.
"I've got it!" she suddenly exclaimed, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to
her. "I've solved the mystery!"
"What mystery?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to think of a mystery we'd been
trying to solve.
"The mystery," she replied, "of why Mil's kills are always beheaded: she's an
immortal!"
I laughed so hard at that, I thought I'd fall of the couch. Millie! An immortal!
What an idea.
"Where does she keep her sword?" I joked. "And how'd she find a trench coat
small enough to fit her?"
"Hmmm…" Mom said. "She must keep her sword under the porch. And of
course she would have had the coat specially made."
At that moment, Millie herself appeared from upstairs.
"Yes, Millie," I said to her. "Yes, we're talking about you. We've found out your
secret…where'd you learn to fence, anyway?"
She twitched her tail at me as if to say, how dare you accuse me of such a
thing? I would never sink to that level of bloodletting. Where are your manners?
"Just kidding, Mil," I assured her. "We were joking about all your neatly
beheaded rodents."
She graced that comment by stalking outside and showing up fifteen minutes
later with…you guessed it…another half a rodent.
* * *