RudyRay Produkshunz

By Jon Moray

This story was published in 2014 for Grey Wolfe Publishing and was inspired by my cousins, Kathleen and Kevin, parents to the late RudyRay Wruck (9/19/98 – 3/23/14). Their love and enthusiasm for their cat brought wonderful melodies over many Christmas seasons. Enjoy!

“I don’t know how we’re going to put this CD together without RudyRay,” Kevin said to his wife Kathy, as they reluctantly began plotting their annual Christmas CD anthology that they would send to friends and loved ones. RudyRay, the adorable and musically inclined ginger tabby cat, lived a rhythmic, harmonious, fifteen years before the heavens took him as their own.

“RudyRay…I recall when your dearly departed mom, Lois, nicknamed him Rudolph the Freckled Nose Kitty.”

“Mom and Aunt Marilyn really loved RudyRay. Do you remember when we discovered how he inspired each song selection?” asked Kathy, running her fingers through Kevin’s long hair.

“Yes. We flipped a coin to decide between the Drifters or Bing Crosby’s version of “White Christmas.” The coin landed on the table ‘heads’ for Crosby until RudyRay pawed it off the table and onto the floor to ‘tails’ and confirmed the result with a melodic meow. Since then, our loving feline’s decisions were made with a vibrating purr, as he lay nestled comfortably on my lap, while I stroked his reddish, tan fur,” Kevin lamented, while recreating his petting motion in the air as if their departed pet was present.

“That was the beginning of RudyRay Produkshunz. Since then, our little critter produced annual themed Christmas CD’s, and also created a Facebook page that he regularly blogged on. Pretty tech savvy for a creature without fingers,” Kathy reminisced, with a warm crescent moon shaped smile.

“He is missed by many ears that enjoyed his seasonal compilations. I loved his creative themes. One year, Tropical. Another year, Rhythm and Blues. Still another year, devoted to cities and states around the United States. Now we must go at it ourselves. You and me, without a vibrating clue.”

Kevin had written thirty-five potential Christmas song selections on a notepad that Kathy perused with pursed lips. The tunes list would have to be whittled down to about twenty to fit on a CD, depending on the length of each song. They volleyed several songs back and forth but couldn’t come to any resolutions.

“’Zat you Santa Claus?…Buster Poindexter or Louis Armstrong‘s version?” asked Kevin, dispirited.

“Oh, I don’t know. If only…” Kathy answered, resigned to helplessness.

“I know, I know,” whispered Kevin, taking her hand in his.

Suddenly, a strong vibration emanated from Kevin’s lap. He hastily reached for the phone from his jeans front pocket.

“Did you get a text?”

“No,” Kevin answered, rubbing his chin.



“Breaking news alert?”

“That’s just it. There is no reason why my phone should be vibrating,” his expressions ranged from curiosity to puzzled.

Kathy squinted in deep thought. Her fingers tapped the kitchen table as she pondered what to say next.

“Poindexter,” she asked, and paused a moment for a reaction as Kevin continued his gaze on his phone.

“Armstrong,” she asked, almost in song. Kevin almost dropped the phone as it vibrated in his hand. His eyes shot up to meet hers amidst the eerie moment. They flashed each other a look that can best be described as a splash of fear, a dash of wonder, and a smidge of happiness.


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