Cait Mikkelsen
Bio
Cait Mikkelsen lives in a strange, old house with an assortment of oddities and a semi-dangerous garden. She's worked many jobs and worn many hats, but now she writes words for money.
Stories (2)
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Red, White, and Fur
“Is the wine okay?” The words wafted over my brain without much effect. I kept staring into the blonde contents of the glass, zoning out to the shimmer of refraction. My few actively firing synapses were prodding my brain with the question of what the hell I was doing in this upscale bar, and at this hour, and on a Tuesday, no less. My eyes drifted up from the glass to the person across from me.
By Cait Mikkelsen5 years ago in Petlife
Strange Bedfellows
The first time, it was an accident. Since my early teens, my primary goal of adulthood was to have and support a dog of my own. I had grown up around dogs and proud, self-proclaimed Dog People. My uncles were hunters who kept un-neutered, outdoorsy labradors, who we considered “a bit excitable” when they humped my grandma’s antique furniture and laid waste to the yearly Christmas tree with one wag of the tail. My parents, on the other hand, were partial to softer, fluffier English labradors with champion bloodlines and delicate constitutions. Despite their differences, every one of these boys (and yes, they were all boys) cracked 90 pounds and behaved like the doggiest dogs who ever dogged. Smaller dogs with less doggish dispositions were considered inferior, while anything more petite than a 40-pound spaniel was considered an absolute rodent.
By Cait Mikkelsen5 years ago in Petlife
