First Time Through the Pet Door by Sarah Raplee

MARCUS WITH A HAIRCUT

We'd been promising our dogs a pet door since we finished installing a fence around the side yard a year ago. A couple weeks ago, we finally ordered one to install in the back door. Last week, we installed this portal to freedom (theirs to go outside, ours to not have to let them outside). We bought a top-of-the-line,  weatherproof, double-flapped model because the winter wind often blows toward our south-facing door.

Obviously, we were pet door first-timers, or we might have chosen a less intimidating model for our two ten-pound rescue dogs, Mac and Marcus. Hindsight is always 20-20.

Little did we know most dogs don't go through dog doors without training. Hours, often days of training. You have to break the process down into small steps and give each dog as much time as he requires to become confident.

The dogs watched the installation process, and after a few cautious sniffs they decided to ignore the weird alteration their crazy humans had added to a perfectly good door.

FRECKLES AND MAC

The cat, who had been napping in the basement, was understandably freaked out when he went to the back door to be let out. I opened the door for him as usual, and after much hesitation he dashed outside.

The first two or three days after installation,we kept the pet door closed with it's slide-in panel locked in place. After all three pets were consistently ignoring the new addition, we went to the next step in the training process.

That morning, we removed the locking panel and taped the two thick, clear vinyl flaps open with duck tape, one on the inside and one on the outside. With our pockets full of treats, we rounded up the dogs and began encouraging them to walk through the open portal. They eyed the opening suspiciously.

My husband, Chuck, sat on the outside of the door while I sat on the inside. He held a treat through the pet door and gave it to Marcus, who is very food-motivated. Mac hung back, suspecting a (non-existent) trap. Every time Mac worked up the courage to try to get a treat from Chuck's disembodied hand, Marcus darted in to grab the food first. When I made the mistake of saying, "No!", both dogs backed away. The light dawned that I would have to hold one dog while the other went through his training.

MAC  HESITATES

 After that, things went pretty smoothly for Marcus. He'll do anything for a treat. Soon he was jumping happily back and forth through the open pet door after  the yummy morsels we tossed through. Then it was Mac's turn.

Mac is suspicious of anything or anyone new. He approached the hand with the treat slowly, but pulled back when the treat was withdrawn through the opening. This happened several times. Chuck suggested I toss a treat through the opening instead. His hand disappeared.

Before I could dig a treat out of my pocket, the cat walked in through the opening as if he'd used a pet door all his life!
Go figure.

After much encouragement and praise, Mac finally stuck his head through the opening and ate a treat placed on the mat outside. After several times, Chuck put the treat far enough away that Mac had to step through to get it. Once Mac was sure there were no dangers awaiting outside the door, he walked through. Of course we made a big fuss about what a good boy he was. When Chuck tossed a treat back through to the inside, Mac followed. Hooray!!!

HOORAY FOR MARCUS!!!

We repeated this lesson twice a day for two days to build Mac's confidence. By the end of the second day, both dogs were going in and out the open pet door at will--just like the cat.

Next step was to only tape the outside flap up. One of us held the inside flap out of the way, but let it fall on the dog's back as he went through. Even Marcus was a little unsure about that. The flaps have a steel bar attached to the bottom that adheres to a magnet when it shuts. This keeps the wind from blowing the flap open. The bar is heavy enough to startle the dog until he gets used to it.

After several training sessions, the dogs were still hesitating to go through for a treat, knowing the flap would fall on their back. It seemed this step was going to take quite a while.

Unfortunately a storm rolled in last night, so the dogs had to wear their raincoats this morning to go outside. I held the inner flap up. After only a moment of hesitation, Marcus squeezed through, raincoat and all. Mac soon followed. I'd been worried about nothing!

It was too windy to leave both flaps up. I let the inner one fall. Mac came back and pawed the flap. I lifted it so he could come inside. After drying him off and removing the raincoat, I walked to the kitchen to fix their breakfast. A moment later, I heard the flap snap shut! I returned to see if the wind blew it, and Marcus pushed it open and came inside without help! Mac followed him in. The noise I'd heard was from Mac going outside on his own!

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

This small miracle gives me hope they will quickly adapt to the final step, which involves passing through both flaps. We'll tackle that one in a few days.

Wish us luck!  ~Sarah, Chuck, Mac and Marcus (and Freckles, the cat)

PS: Have you trained a dog or cat to use a pet door? If so, what was your experience like?

Change the Past? by Sarah Raplee

REMEMBER HOT PANTS?

Instead of going back in time to change one major thing in my life, I would like to change a few small things that would have made life more pleasant. Like that time I bought 'hot pants' just because they were in style. Or the time I let my husband talk me into buying a silver Chevy Citation with a butt-ugly-shade-of-red interior. I was never comfortable in either one.

THE FLAMING TAIL INCIDENT

During the 1990s I went through my ‘scented candle period’. This corresponded to my ‘cat lady period’. Cat number four, Bob, was a white cat with orange spots who loved to play fetch with pop bottle caps. One day during a family gathering, Bob jumped on the coffee table and deposited a white plastic bottle cap on the wooden surface. Then he looked around the crowded room and meowed expectantly. One of my teenaged sons picked up the cap and held it up, getting Bob excited. Bob crouched and wiggled his rear, ready to play.

A puff of smoke appeared above the cat’s tail. In his excitement he’d forgotten he shared the coffee table with my votive scented candle. Bob realized his peril a second later. Luckily when he ran through the house the wind of his passing blew out his flaming tail. If I could, I would go back and throw those candles in the trash. We were lucky we didn’t lose Bob, and that he didn’t set our house on fire.

Strangely enough, not long after the burning tail incident, the family were celebrating a birthday at our favorite sushi restaurant. My husband was lighting the candles on the birthday cake we’d brought from home when I realized my paper napkin had come in contact with one of the restaurant candles. I jumped to my feet and grabbed my water glass. Yellow fire brushed my husband’s sweater sleeve, sending a sheet of weird electric-blue flame across the fuzzy acrylic. I threw water on my husband’s sleeve, grabbed another water glass and put out what was left of my flaming napkin. O. ne of the kids burst into tears. A couple of adults leapt to their feet, water glasses in hand. My husband frowned at his wet sleeve in confusion, never having seen the flames which by some miracle had not burned him.

If I could, I would go back and have those candles removed from the table before our meal. (After our near-tragedy, the restaurant eliminated candles.)

And guess what? I just realized my husband’s sweater was the same butt-ugly red shade as the interior of that Chevy Citation. Maybe I should go back and destroy the sweater...

Celebrating Romance When Life Goes to Hell By Sarah Raplee

First published May 28, 2013
As a writer, I learned early on the value of celebrating romance when life goes to hell. During introductions at my first local chapter meeting of Romance Writers of America in West Des Moines, Iowa, a young woman’s story gave me a new perspective and pride in my newly-chosen career. I've heard similar stories over and over.

 “Reading romance helped me through my father dying of cancer. That’s why I decided to write romance novels. I want to do the same for other people,” she said. For that horrible year, romance stories were a great escape from the pain and grief that was her daily life. And the experience of finding love and happiness in the darkest of circumstances that reading romance offered gave her hope—which is always worth celebrating. Laughing through light-hearted romantic comedies lifted her spirits and offered a respite in which to renew her strength.

As a reader, I experienced the power of celebrating romance when my husband went from healthy and strong to the brink of death in twelve short hours. We were in the process of moving to a new home when our timid, neurotic housecat, Jasper, transformed into murderous Demon Spawn. 

In an effort to calm Jasper, we decided to put the confused and frightened fifteen-pound orange tabby into his cat carrier. To avoid getting scratched and clawed, Chuck made the mistake of grasping the cat’s front legs in one hand and his hind legs in the other and picking him up. Jasper just wasn’t the sort of cat you find on the television show, My Cat from Hell. That our cuddly pet would bite him never occurred to my husband.

But Jasper acted on pure animal instinct, defending himself from what seemed like attack with the deadly tools God had given him. He bit my husband’s hands and arms multiple times, going all the way through the ring finger on his left hand. Later, the ER doctor had to cut his gold wedding band in to places in order to remove the ring. 

Despite the cat’s efforts, Chuck got him into the cat carrier. Blood streamed from his wounds, but being a man, he refused to go to the emergency room. In spite of my protests, he insisted on washing the wounds himself with soap and water, pouring peroxide over them, stopping the bleeding, and then helping my sons finish loading the moving van. 

By the time the truck was unloaded and turned into the rental place, it was 11:30 pm and we were exhausted. His hands and arms hurt like the devil, but he was sure that was from being bit and moving things. We went to bed.

The next morning, he had a fever and two wide red streaks running up to his armpits. His fingers were swollen like sausages and he felt dizzy. He was too weak to fight going to the ER.

Turns out that, according to the hand surgeon who was called into the ER, 90% of cat bites get infected. For comparison, only 5% of dog bites do. Feline mouths harbor a nasty strain of bacteria. Anyone bitten by a cat should make a beeline for the nearest urgent care center or emergency room.

Chuck’s severe bite wounds were infused with millions of potentially-lethal bacteria who had multiplied overnight until the infections had spread almost to his heart. Reaching his heart would have been fatal. 

ME & FRECKLES
OUR CURRENT RESCUE CAT
GIFT FROM HUBBY

Microsurgery was performed on Chuck’s hand. Years later he still has no feeling in part of that finger. He spent five days in the hospital with IV antibiotics being pumped directly into his heart. He left the hospital on Christmas Eve with a portable pump and the IV still in him. I spent those five days on a bedside vigil alternating between praying and reading a romance novel. 

My faith gave me the strength to function. Celebrating romance kept me sane. 

Has celebrating romance helped you through a hellish situation?

Cat People/Dog People

Hi everyone!
I am YA author B. A. Binns out here on the snowy tundra of the land that was once called Chicago but has now been renamed Chi-beria. In the words of one of my favorite songs, There must be dome kind of way out of here!!! 


I have always wondered if my antipathy towards cats springs from an incident in my childhood. I was in second or maybe third grade and I found a kitten left alone out in the cold (at least it wasn't as cold as these last few days or I would have had frozen kitty) I took it home, but I already knew what my parents would say, so I tried to keep it hidden. I think I had two days before I was caught.

The cat had to go, and no questions would change anything. No tears either.

I remember bundling the kitty inside my coat and taking it to school with me. That wasn't a real solution, but I was young and the only thing I really knew was that I would not just toss it out int he cold again. Instead I left her in a stairwell inside the school.

I never heard any commotion. There were no announcements on the intercom, no gossip about the stray cat. I went home and made myself believe someone with more understanding parents than I had found her and she was happy.

That's probably true.

But I never had or even wanted another cat. Never even wanted to be around them. I hate the purring, the staring, the obnoxious way they walk. I don't want to see another cat, not ever.

I'm now a dog person, through and through.

That's why the main character of my work-in-progress, tentatively titled Duet owns a cat. Her pet has to die and I won't kill a dog. Not even an imaginary one. I had to put my dog down over twenty years ago. She was an American Eskimo and she knew me better than I knew me.

I named her Melinda B. When I bought her she was just a few months old and could fit in my hands. She grew up to be about twenty pounds, the perfect pet (except for the shedding issue). I called her my mini-Samoyed. Smarter than me, she could be left alone and handled herself well. After one aborted bout with a great dane she decided friendship was the way to go with people and dogs. And especially with kids. I was warned the breed could be a little snippy with small children, but she loved them, even when they pulled her tail or her ears. She was my companion through college and my "New Adult" years, and then my real adult years.

But all good things come to an end, even really great dogs.  She lived for 17 years, unusual even for a small dog. But her legs got wobbly and she developed cancer. The vet said I needed to let go.

I couldn't. I took her home. And I watched struggle to keep being a good dog. I could tell walking was painful. She had lost control of her kidneys, but she kept trying to walk with me, to play ball. She was relieved when I sat down and just let her lay in my lap.

We went back to the vet. I chose to sit with her while we waited for the drugs to end her suffering. I stoked her and talked to her and I hope she didn't get that I was unhappy because she always wanted to cheer me up when I was sad. I didn't want her to feel she had to do anything except relax and fall sleep. And then stop breathing.

I managed to get all the way home before I burst into tears. And even though it has been almost thirty years, I have to push back tears to write this.

So I guess I'll stop.

But I hope you won't. Instead enter my Goodreads Give Away for an autographed copy of my new release, Minority of One. I promise you, no pets die in this story.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Minority Of One

by B.A. Binns

Giveaway ends March 01, 2014.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

P. S. You can also win a copy by liking All The Colors Of Love.
Five additional winners will be chosen from Facebook.

Underdog Heroes?

by Sarah Raplee

 

I have to admit I have a soft spot for underdogs.

My favorite fictional hero is Julian Cash from Alice Hoffman's magical romantic thriller, Turtle Moon. Julian is born so ugly that his mother abandons him and bees won’t sting him. Against the odds, Julian grows into a policeman with moral integrity and the capacity for great heroism and great love.
 

Brander Hansen, the hero of Kris Tualla’s historical romance, A Discreet Gentleman of Discovery, is another wonderful underdog hero. Deaf since age seven, Brander loses his inheritance when he’s twenty-three through no fault of his own. He goes on to earn his own estate as an eighteenth century Norwegian private eye. And he wins the heart of a beautiful, intelligent woman.

In real life, a whole group of unsung underdog heroes has recently come to my attention:
Hero Cats.

Yes, you heard me correctly: I am a fan of Feline Heroes. Underdog heroes who hiss and spit. Brave, loyal, determined companions to whom many people owe their lives.

 You may believe dogs act heroically much more often than cats do, but I’m not so sure (although I’m a HUGE fan of dogs! They work their way into most of my stories.)

Cats have gotten bad press. For example, when a dog is a hero, the headline says Hero Dog Saves Family from Fire. 

When a cat is a hero, the headline says ‘Hero’ Cat Apparently Calls 911 to Help Owner.

Let’s see, the 911 dispatcher gets a call but no one speaks on the line. The dispatcher hangs up and calls back. No one answers. The police investigate and discover the owner’s cat, Tommy, lying next to the phone. The cat’s owner has fallen out of his wheelchair and can’t summon help. The owner has worked with the cat for three years to teach him to dial 911 using a speed dial button.

I ask you, why is the word hero in quotes? Why is the word apparently there at all?
Original NBC News report

Was that case the exception that proves the rule? An unusually intelligent, loyal, well-trained cat? You be the judge. Let’s examine a few more cases of kitty heroics:

YouTube video of a hero cat protecting campers from alligators
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_29k6dJ6DA

YouTube video of a hero cat protecting a family from a wild bear
www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-BD4wL_8TM

June 2010: Fearless Cat Saves Owner from Dog AttackA tortoiseshell named Lima distracts two pitbulls who attack her owner by attacking one of the dogs herself. This distracts them, giving the owner’s husband a chance to pull her inside the house. The cat escapes unharmed. Original Blog Story

November 2011: Owner Says Cat Saved Him from Fire
(Notice how the headline casts doubt on the story?) The cat jumped up and down on his lap until he woke up.
Original Fox Carolina News Story

CHARLEY

 August 2012:  In the UK, Charley, a black-and-white puss, was the winner out of fifteen hero cats that made the finals for the Hero Cat title at Cats Protection's prestigious National Cat Awards 2012. According to doctors, Charley saved her owner’s life when she had a diabetic attack in the middle of the night. Charley awakened the owner’s husband and led him to the bathroom where she lay on the floor. Charley won a trophy, a three months’ supply of cat food, a year's supply of Verdo Cat Litter and a framed photograph of himself. (Verdo Cat Litter sponsors the award. )
Original Story on Cat Protection’s Website

Do you think cats have gotten bad press? Why or why not?

True Confession: My Romance Writing Has Gone to the Dogs!

by Sarah Raplee

When I began to write for publication, something unexpected happened. At least, unexpected for me. I’m a cat person.

But dogs infiltrated my Romance novels!

I admit I’m an animal lover from way back. We always had a cat and a dog when I was growing up. And guppies or a parakeet or two.  One of my earliest memories is of sitting beside the parakeet cage on the kitchen floor when I was two and talking to the pretty bird. But deep down, I’ve always been a cat person.

Generally speaking, it was understood that the dog was Jack’s responsibility and the cat was mine and my sister, Diana’s. The dog stayed outside, while the cat was allowed the privilege of coming inside the house and sleeping on one of the girls’ beds. 

FRECKLES PLAYS FETCH

Diana and I were happy with our cuddly cat. Growing up, I was totally convinced I was a cat person and I’d always be a cat person.

 After I married, we always had a cat. None of the dogs we tried worked out for one reason or another. Finally, we adopted Sidrah, a four-month-old Siberian Husky/Border Collie mix who stayed with us for fifteen years. She was so smart that I swear she understood English. And she was friendly with children and adults she knew, but protective of our kids around strangers. This gorgeous, affectionate canine was a joy to have in the family. (Yes, she got to come indoors—much to the cat’s chagrin.)

We’ve had a number of dogs since Sidrah passed away, each with their own strengths, foibles and delightfully unique personalities. And now we have Penny. At two years old, she’d already been through three owners when we adopted the beautiful German Shorthair. These dogs need to get plenty of daily exercise. They are amazingly well-rounded dogs, but that need for exercise means they are not for everyone.

ME, PENNY & 2 OF HER KIDS

Like Sidrah, Penny seems to understand English. She is sweet and loves her kids (our grandkids.) She likes people, but barks at strangers. She’s my almost-nine-year-old beauty.

And darned if she didn’t show up as a character in my first book! In fact, my heroine is a dog trainer and owns a pet services business. She owns two rescue dogs, Beauty (modeled after Penny) and The Beast (whose personality is modeled after our Great Dane, Roxie.) These two dogs are secondary characters who affect the suspense plot and the romance. A half-dozen minor canine characters appear in Love Unleashed.

FRECKLES POSES

My second book introduces a blind heroine and her Guide dog, Freddy. I have four other books planned, and dogs feature prominently in all of them. 

Ironically, both Penny and our cat, Freckles, keep me company when I’m writing. Freckles has accepted the honorary position of Desk Ornament. Go figure!

 

Do you consider yourself to be a dog person or a cat person?