Grandma Has a Gripe

Grandma Has Gripe Cover
Grandma Has Gripe Cover

Chapter I

It was all my fault.

Tuna was staring into our dining room window that steamy morning.

I padded down the hall to my office and closed the door with Grandma Meow Moses safely behind it asleep on my desk chair.

Frome there I went back to the kitchen and let Tuna inside and gave him a couple treats, because that is how things work here in the black hole just outside Harmony Grove.

Sometimes folks will ask, "Do those two cats of yours get along now? The young one in the tuxedo with his sharpened claws and that little old deaf lady with all the pearls and cataracts?"

"No. They do not," is how I always answer.

Up the stairs I went to brush my teeth.

My sweet Sven was in the loft reading about mammals.

"How is your book?" I asked.

"I am this far and not even up to the dinosaurs," he said.

Good, I thought, as I walked away. Maybe this one will last him a little while.

And then I squeezed toothpaste on my toothbrush.

"Do I hear cats fighting?" he called from the other room.

"It's okay. They must be arguing through my office door," I hollered over running water.

And then the hair on the back of my neck prickled and the eyes in the mirror opened really wide as I saw them to begin to grasp the meaning of the immensity of the increasing volume of screaming cats coming from downstairs.

There is something unworldly about the sounds felines make when having a disagreement.


I threw down my toothbrush, skidded to the door, and took a sharp right down the stairs.

"TUNA!!!! NO!!!!!

NO!!!!! TUNA!!!!!


Tuna looked at me coming his way at the speed of light, back at Grandma curled in a ball in front of him, back at me, and then he lunged for Ms. Moses, who's language was absolutely atrocious.

Her body language had already said everything it had to say.

I grabbed Tuna by the tail while the sweet little thing underneath him continued to scream profanities. I put my other hand under his belly, picked him up, ran to the kitchen door, opened it, and threw him out.

He glanced back at me from the sidewalk with his innocent googly eyes.

And then he wandered off like nothing had happened.

That was a week ago.

Grandma has since forgiven me for my slip up, but she will "Never, ever," as she put it, "forgive that bastard."

"What's that Louisa?"

Hang on. My sister is saying something.


She wants to know how they got into a fight with the office door closed.

"When I shut the door, Grandma wasn't in in the office."

And so, it goes.

Grandma Has a Gripe - Chapter II

It was all my fault.

Tuna was outside, so, I let Grandma come upstairs from her assisted living apartment for a bowl of milk and a visit.

I had just finished writing Grandma has a Gripe and went to take a shower.

"How's your book?" I asked my sweet Sven on the way.

"It's okay. But I've already read this one."

I guess the mammals didn't last very long.

Grandma Meow Moses wandered into the bathroom where I happened to be brushing my teeth when sounds from another world, a low grumble, like felines having a disagreement, began.

I spit out my toothbrush and scooped Grandma Meow Moses up just as Tuna sprang out of the bathroom closet like a jack-in-the-box.

I had saved the little old lady's life.

And for that, she sank her teeth into my hand as hard as she could just as Sven grabbed the guy in the tuxedo, took him down the stairs and threw him out the kitchen door.

He looked back at Sven with his innocent googly eyes and wandered off like nothing had happened.

"What's that Louisa?"

Hang on. My sister is saying something to me.

"Well, duh! I thought Tuna was outside!"

That was yesterday.

And so, it goes.

Grandma Has Gripe Tuna

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