8 Cats + 4 Dogs + 7 Humans = Gratitude!!! By Sarah Raplee

 😸😺😻😼😾🙀😹😽🐕🐶🐩🐶👴👵👱👦👧👨👩

We recently sold our acreage in the Northern Cascade foothills of Oregon, our home of ten years, and moved to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The acreage had become too much work for us to keep up with, and the cost of living and housing in Oregon had become too much for a couple facing retirement.

Our youngest son, Galen, and his family lived in Astoria, Oregon, a beautiful town on the coast. But we couldn’t afford to buy a house there, and their three-story Victorian with two dozen steps leading up to the front door was not workable for two seventy-somethings with arthritis.

Our eldest son, Micah, and his family urged us to come live with them in their big, modern house in the country outside Cedar Rapids. They had plenty of room, as their children were grown.

One of our oldest granddaughters and her family, including our only great-grandchildren, lived about forty-five minutes north in Waterloo. Micah’s oldest daughter and her fiancée lived three hours away in Rochester, Minnesota, and they were expecting a baby. Micah’s oldest son and his girlfriend lived in Ankeny, two hours away. The younger son lived at home while working in the family business, and the younger daughter and her fiancée were living temporarily in the walkout basement of Micah’s home while they remodeled the home they had bought nearby. They hoped to be moved by Christmas.

We could live in two upstairs rooms for a month or two, then move downstairs while looking for a new home, or permanently if we found we liked the arrangements. They even offered to put in a stairlift if we needed one.

We’d lived in Cedar Rapids previously for twenty-one years. Then my husband’s employer transferred him to Oregon. Six months later, our youngest son and his family moved to Astoria. We got to see their kids grow up over fourteen years, but now their youngest was thirteen.

With Micah’s help, we quickly found a buyer for our acreage .Within six weeks, with the help of both son’s families, we got the POD packed and drove to Iowa with two dogs and a cat in tow.

Lucky and Petey are Friends Now

We were a little apprehensive about how our pets would adjust to the drive, and then the new living arrangements. They’ve done really well. It’s taken a month, but the cat has found his place among the five other upstairs cats and the two downstairs cats. The two big Australian shepherd pups are very rambunctious, so we keep the dogs apart. Mac is getting better about not barking at and/or chasing the cats. Petey has made friends with two of them. Both dogs have come to realize this house is their new home and Micah’s family are part of our “pack”.

Although we miss Galen’s family, my husband and I are very thankful things have worked out so well. We can afford to make trips to Oregon, and Galen’s family makes trips to Iowa at least every other year. We are settling in and looking forward to Thanksgiving, when we will see all grandkids and the great-grands. 

Our hearts overflow with gratitude!!!

Shopping - blech!

I dislike shopping. The trudge from shop to shop, the barrage of choice, the agony of indecision—my personal hell. Except for food shopping, which I don’t mind at all. A lady’s gotta eat. And since I enjoy cooking and baking, I also enjoy purchasing what I need in order to cook and bake.

But there is a type of shopping that I love, though I hesitate to think of it as a purchase. More like an adoption. And that’s visiting the animal shelter to choose (or be chosen by) a new housemate. Hands down, without question, the funnest thing ever.

Believe it or not, even though I’ve lived with cats my whole life, it’s only relatively recently that I’ve had to go “shopping” for one. I don’t know where the kitties came from during my early childhood, and I have no actual memories of them, just black-&-white photos. When I was twelve, a handsome, dark, long-haired fellow turned up at the door and charmed the whole family. Gurgi lived by his own rules and let us know with bites to the ankle if we stepped out of line.

The first cat of my very own was one of a litter of farm kittens from next door to my mum’s summer house. I decided that Gurgi needed a playmate, so I brought home a tiny orange and white girl named Tivi.

Time passed, adventures were had, and the next kitties in the house were those that came with my husband. A chubby grey tabby named … wait for it … Grey Kitty, and a dainty calico without a name. I know! I didn’t need to live with her for long before I came up with the perfect name—Mrs. Danvers (of Rebecca fame). Fit her to a tee. We like to say she lived so long, 22 years, out of spite. At the same time, another handsome, dark fellow joined the family. He walked in from the street one day and never left. We named him after the street, Calvert.

Now we get to the shopping. We had been many years without an animal companion, and our boys needed the joy and responsibility of a cat. We all went to the shelter and met a few of the adult cats. The most affectionate by far was a chubby calico named Portia.

She’d had a bit of a hard life—a limp, missing a few teeth—my heart melted. She chose me as her favourite person, though she was friendly with everyone. But her hard life caught up with her and she left us far too soon.

About a year later, we returned to the shelter and were again taken with an adult cat, black except for a small white patch on her belly. (Touch the white patch. Go ahead - I dare you.)

After Mogget had lived with us for a month, it became clear she hadn’t, in fact, been spayed. Cat in heat—oh joy. After that was taken care of, the once cuddly cat wasn’t. She wanted to be close to her humans, but only so close, as determined by her.

Every cat needs a playmate, right? Back to the shelter we went and this time we chose a kitten, a feisty tuxedo boy.

Bruno was such a guy! And he never grew out of his teenager stage, much to Mogget’s annoyance. But they played together, by her rules, hunted voles and shrews together, and grew old together.

So you can keep your clothes shopping and furniture shopping and shoe shopping (ugh!). Invite me to go furry companion shopping and I’ll race you to the car.

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing many flavours of romance. When not torturing her characters, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband and two hens. 

Website ~ Bookbub ~ Instagram ~ Goodreads 

Luscious Lingual Limosis: An Appetite for Words by Jody Wallace

I’ve enjoyed many of the reflections on laughter as meditation, medication, and manducation that have appeared on the blog this month. 

Laughter and endorphins do indeed make us feel better, lightness in the dark, babies giggling, pets being adorable, jokes and puns. 

Like this gem:

Doctor: Sir, I’m afraid your DNA is backwards.

Patient: AND?

But do you know what else makes us feel better?

Learning!

In writing this blog post, I composed my first line, realized I might like to add more M words to make it funnier, and went searching on the Google for “long words that start with m.” So today we are going to get our brain endorphins churning by playing a fun game. We are all readers and writers on this blog, visitors and bloggers alike. Words are awesome. So here’s what I want you to do. 

• Go to this page: http://phrontistery.info/m.html (but not yet, keep reading first.)
• Skim that etymological deliciousness.
• Pick your favorite.
• Come back here and tell us about it, and why it’s your favorite.
• Congratulations, we made endorphins together! Here’s the link again - http://phrontistery.info/m.html

 Photo by Josefin 
on Unsplash

It was very very hard to pick a favorite. Obviously meerkats are a favorite of the whole world, and I don’t know what that word was doing on the list.

Morology was a really big contender, because it means nonsense, and nonsense has been one of my most-used words since, oh, very early 2020 for some reason. Then again, what about morassic? It means having all the qualities of a morass, and that could have been a popular word with any of us since, oh, very early 2020 for some reason along with nonsense.

 Photo by James Lee 
on Unsplash

But I’ve got to hand it to myriacanthous. Not only did my Word program really hate the spelling of that word, but it means “having many prickles.” Quite frankly, I think of myself as having many prickles, like a cranky cat, and so I should obviously love myself the most. I also think of a scene I included in one of my Dragons of Tarakona books, a paranormal romance series I write with a co-author so neither of us gets too worn out. The book in question is GOLD RUSH , and in the scene, the protagonists are going to fetch a mystical grail-like cup that the hero has hidden from the evil demons in a place he figured nobody would ever look. (https://www.jodywallace.com/books/gold-rush/)

Turns out that place was inside a (SPOILER ALERT) Saguaro dryad cactus who is the very definition of myriacanthous in so many ways. Also, the cactus dryad is named Doug. Because why not?

Please join in in the comments with some more appreciation of “long words that start with m” and tell us why you love them!

Jody W.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JODY WALLACE

Jody Wallace’s 30+ titles include sf/f romance, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance. Her fiction features diverse protagonists, action, adventure, and humor. Her readers frequently comment on her great characters, suspenseful stories, and intriguing and creative world building. When describing her methods, Jody says: “There are two sides to every story. I aim to tell the third. And I add cats regardless.” 

Outside of her fiction career, Jody has employed her Master’s Degree in Creative Writing to work as a college English instructor, technical documents editor, market analyst, web designer, and all around pain in the butt. The photo was taken at one of her first book signings, so years and years ago before she realized that myriacanthous was her favorite M word. You can learn more about her at https://jodywallace.com 

Eight Dimensions of Me

To paraphrase the perennial classic, these are a few, well, eight, of my favourite things. Not eight discreet items, I’ve lived too long to have only eight favourite things. I do have favourite categories of things though, and after some thought, I came up with my top eight. In no particular order, here they are.

British TV:  I’ve always enjoyed British TV, from comedy (Monty Python, The IT Crowd, Blackadder), to game shows (Pointless, 15 to 1), to panel shows (Mock the Week), to drama (Shetland, The Bodyguard). Given the choice, I’ll stream something British on Netflix rather than watch my local cable TV.

Sweaters I’ve knitted:  I learned to knit as a child but paused for many years for other interests, like piano lessons and boys. I took up knitting again when I got married. I attempted to knit a pullover for Mr. S. but I ran out of wool halfway through knitting the second sleeve – I know! I took up knitting again when I had babies and haven’t stopped since.

Son1 in a cardigan knitted with the wool from failed pullover.

Desserts:  I always eat dessert after supper, a habit established in infancy – or at least as far back as my memory will stretch. Baking is my favourite way to unwind and I love trying new recipes. If you subscribe to my newsletter (www.luannastewart.com/newsletter) you’ll hear about my baking.

Bread:  A theme seems to be emerging – I like food. But I love bread, any flavour, any variety, from a chewy country loaf to a tender, buttery croissant. I could happily eat bread all day long.

Italian cuisine:  By far my favourite. Though I do enjoy the spices in Indian food – cumin, coriander, garam masala – and I enjoy a good stir-fry (check out recipetineats.com for delicious versions and other scrumptious recipes), my true comfort food is pasta topped with a sauce of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh herbs.

Music:  As a kid, we always had music playing on the radio or on the record player. Mum listened to Englebert Humperdink, Dad listened to Chet Atkins, my brother blasted us with BTO (Bachman Turner Overdrive), and I enjoyed Bobby Sherman and the Bay City Rollers. I mentioned piano lessons in an earlier category. I studied classical piano for much of my childhood early teen years and managed to pass grade eight of the Royal Conservatory of Music. So there I’d be in the living room practising The Horseman, Op. 68, No. 23 by Schumann, and my brother would be in the downstairs rec room serenading the entire house with Foreigner.

Travel:  I love travelling – except for the long uncomfortable plane rides – and would gladly spend half the year exploring foreign lands. We recently returned from a few weeks of travel in Europe culminating in a stay at a friend’s house in Cyprus. I had no idea what to expect from Cyprus and I discovered a fascinating country that requires further exploration.

One of the many spectacular views to be found around every bend in the road.

I also enjoy reading travelogues, or fiction that incorporates travel in the story. One of my favourite authors, Elizabeth Peters, takes us through Egypt and elsewhere in the Middle East in her Amelia Peabody series, which I re-read regularly.

Cats:  I’ve had at least one pet cat at a time since childhood. There have been a few breaks in feline dominance but never more than a year. Then the need for a furry friend becomes too strong to ignore and we hie off to the animal shelter to be chosen by our next overlord. We currently share the house with two cats – Bruno and Mogget.

Ghost Cat

by Sarah Raplee

The Ghost Cat visited our house again last night.

We've lived with this possible pussycat for five years. Doors on cupboards full of nice soft towels and blankets--exactly the sorts of places a kitty might choose to curl up in--seem to open when we're not looking, even when our alive-and-kicking cat, Freckles, is shut in 'his' room in the basement. When we're in bed for the night, sometimes what seems to be Freckles jumps on the bed and lies down--but when one of us reaches to pet him, poof--he's not there.

That's just freaky.

Would Ghost Hunters Jason and Steve from TAPS
( http://the-atlantic-paranormal-society.com/ ) suggest that vibrations we don't notice affect the cupboard doors? Maybe we dream the cat-on-the-bed incidents--but why would two people dream the same dream, sometimes at the same time?

Tonight, we had a new experience. Freckles jumped onto the couch beside me, eyes dilated, tail swishing, and spent ten minutes playing with something that wasn't there. He acted exactly as though he were playing with another cat. He's never, ever done that since he moved in with us seven years ago.

At least whatever-it-is, is friendly.

And playful.

That's good, right?

Cool Pet Gift Ideas for You Christmas Eve Shoppers

DOGGLES,
A PERENNIAL FAVORITE

 I admit to being gifted (or cursed) with insatiable curiosity and a love of pets, fun and creativity. This post is the result of the sum total of all these things.

I think these products are cool, but I don't get anything for telling you about them other than the satisfaction of sharing my enthusiasm.

What ingenious and/or useful pet gifts did I discover while cruising the internet this year?

The first item is a cheat, because it's not new - at least to me. I fell in love with Doggles years ago when our Bassett hound, Annie, lost her sight. She loved to follow scent trails on walks, but couldn't see twigs and briars that might poke her eyes. Doggles to the rescue! For sighted dogs, they offer protection from UV rays as well as blowing sand at the beach. Plus they look cool! Find a variety of Doggles and a slew of other awesome pet items at www.doggles.com
 

KUMFY TAILZ
WARMING WINTER COAT

A new favorite is the Kumfy Tailz Warming Winter Coat.What an amazing idea for thin-coated pups that live in cold climates - and so fashionable, too!

Gel packs keep your best friend toasty when it's cold outside, baby. Find these, as well as warming/cooling vests, at  www.kumfytailz.com 

AIRPLANE CAT HOUSE

My cat, Freckles, would never forgive me if I didn't mention a couple of unique kitty gifts available this year.

The Airplane Cat House is a whimsical delight for both you and your feline friend. This cardboard playhouse is modeled after a WWII fighter. You can find it at www.uncommongoods.com

CATS ATTACK CAT SCRATCHING POST

My second choice for feline companions is the Cats Attack Cat Scratching Post. What cat could resist the chance to be as big as King King or Godzilla? Think of the YouTube videos you could make! You'll find this item, appropriately enough, at www.perpetualkid.com 

For you pet owners, what cool pet gifts have you found this year?

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!!! 
I hope you have someone warm and furry to curl up with, along with a good book.
~Sarah Raplee

My cat said he loves me...

Yeah, right. I'm kind of glad my pets can't talk. At least, not in English.

I think most domestic animals view human behaviour with a mixture of confusion and incredulity.  Plus, if they're a cat, a healthy dose of contempt.

What on earth is that human doing? they say to themselves. Why must I participate in these strange rituals to get what I want? Where is the food, and when can I have some? Why is there someone on my side of the bed? Why is there never anything good on television?

My cat would kill me and eat me, if only he were a little larger and not quite as lazy. Still, it's the thought that counts. The day he learns to open one of those pull-top cans that cat food comes in? I'm screwed. Until then? Opposable thumbs, big fella. Watch 'em and weep.

Dinner is the major part of his day - nay, of his existence. If he could speak, his conversation would be something like this.

{Silence. For hours, until he's ready. Glares. Licks himself.}

"Where's the food?"

Yeah, that'd pretty much be it. Plonk on lap. Sleep now.

My dog, on the other hand, just wants attention. He doesn't care what kind - so long as he's on your radar, he's happy. Even being a bad dog is better than being ignored.

His idea of a cool car journey is not to stick his head out the window and hang his tongue in the wind. He just sits on the passenger seat and stares at you while you're driving. Intently. Kind of like he looks in the picture. What now? What now? What now?

Dog can do this for hours on end. Honestly, it'd be creepy if he wasn't so dense.

It's also kind of cool that pets don't understand English when they hear it. It means that I can say whatever I like, so long as it's in that cheerful, 'good boy!' tone of voice. The names my dog gets are unrepeatable. But does he care? Not a whit. So long as I'm calling him something, he's happy.

The cat routinely gets labelled 'Fatty' and 'Boombah' and 'Waterbag' (imagine that big floppy orange fella stretched out on his side and you will see this) and he just carries on, oblivious. On the other hand, maybe he does understand, and he's just biding his time...

Anyway, I'm not sure what this has to do with romance novels. The hero in my latest book has a cat, Rudolph, who eyes him with disdain and demands food. Damn, I've stereotyped a cat. Still, the fact that my hero is a 'cat person' (as opposed to a 'dog person') is shorthand for so many things.

Dogs assimilate, cats go their own way. Dogs obey, cats ignore. Dogs are Royalists, cats are republicans (lower-case r, of course). Dogs crave validation. Cats, au contraire, couldn't care less whether you like them or not. They don't need you. Dogs do.

Do you think owners choose pets that reflect their own personality? Is a romance between two cat people going to be a different story than a romance between a dog person and a cat person? Or is it all just about the cute furry animals?

A Tribute to Kiko

This month’s theme “If Animals Could Talk…” made me scratch my head. What do you mean if????

Okay, so Kiko the Magnificent couldn’t actually talk—actually she rarely meowed—but that little kitty communicated with me on a far more complex level. To show you what I mean…

Once, I was watching a movie with my husband, and got up, for apparently no reason. He asked, “Where’re you going?”

The question startled me. I wasn’t exactly sure. Without thinking, I replied, “The cat needs some water.”

Then I headed upstairs, almost trancelike (okay, maybe I exaggerate a bit about my zombie state).  There she sat. Patiently waiting by her water bowl.

During the seven wonderful years Kiko allowed me to live in her house, there were daily incidents similar to the one above. I seemed to “know” I needed to move a pillow off a chair because Kiko had decided to sit there instead of her usual spot. A thought would pop in my head and I’d go get a blanket. Kiko would snuggle beneath it, like she’d requested it. I’d stop writing and go remove that tee shirt that had somehow ended up covering her food.

How else, other than mental telepathy, could a cat learn to fetch? Yes, if I threw a toy small enough for her to carry, she’d retrieve the item and bring it back to me. Even more impressive, she liked to play hide-and-seek, always hiding before I got to ten and always tagging me before I found her.  I didn’t teach her that game. I never rewarded her with treats for behavior. Somehow, I just knew that’s what she wanted to do.

So it was very weird I didn’t know she was sick.  I got no sense of her disease, only noticing when she stopped eating.  I know what you’re thinking. Cats are very good at masking illness. Maybe, but that cat and I were synched—I should have known. Our mental connection sometimes freaked my husband out.

But you see, my husband was also very sick. Dying actually. I’m convinced my little kitty wanted to spare me more pain. When I took her to the vet, she said Kiko wouldn’t live more than a month. My cat stayed on this earth for another four months, hanging in there to get me through a horrific time. She spent most of that time in my lap, looking at me with those beautiful green eyes, projecting the same thought: it will be all right.

A year later, tears are welling in my eyes as I write this. But I’m also smiling.  I can still sense Kiko. And she’s saying, “See. It’s all right.”

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?