Friday, March 29, 2013

Thanks for the Memories

Blog-Hop, March 29 - Celebrating what we do remember.



This was my little California foundling  “Sammy.” As tiny and starved as she was (she had already been eating earth), we had quite a time to catch her off the rocky shore, resisting us all spit, claws and sharp little teeth.

Sammy never quite outgrew her wild origins; and was my earthquake forecaster. Whenever she jumped from deep sleep off the bed, I knew...and sure enough. Ten seconds later, another of San Diego’s earthquakes would roll through.
 


When things quieted down, she loved to play in the earth of my flowerpots (a left-over from her early days, I suppose). She, too, is long gone now. But the memory of her has stayed with me.

Friday, March 22, 2013

A Perfect Time to Write

The forsythia bushes have begun to wrap a butter-yellow mantel around their bare branches, and intrepid early bloomers emerge from the soil underneath. Time to get off the keyboard; time to get out and welcome Spring...That’s how I planned it. Until this morning, when I pulled the curtains open to see which of my fall-planted bulbs had sprung to life.

All I saw was a deep blanket of white. Already timidly greening branches hung heavy once again in their wintry robes, and a zillion little tracks proved that the bird-feeders were appreciated by a lot of other critters. On this first day of spring, at least eight inches of snow had fallen in the Ozarks Foothills.

What was to become of my plans now? As they say, ‘back to the drawing board,’ or—in my case—back to the keyboard. It turns out that this white stillness is a perfect time to write.


First Day of Spring Celebration - 2013


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Friday, March 15, 2013

March 15 - Celebration Blog Hop -- Come Join In

I am celebrating that I haven't fallen over this habitual  rug-rat--yet!


                             

Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Cat in Ancient Egypt

The first domesticated cat came from ancient Egypt. Therefore, all cats were wild until the ancient Egyptians started sharing their homes with them over 6,000 years ago. All of our cats today are descended from those cats.

Egyptians loved their cats. They considered them protectors of their homes. In most cases, they did not give them individual names; they just called them Ta-Mieuw, or "The Meower." The cat lived well in Egypt. And, after death, the housecat was mummified and given a decent burial, often in or near the sarcophagus of a household member.

Cats were so spoiled in Egypt, that some even wore jewelry, such as earrings (check out the famous Gayer-Anderson Cat from the British Museum below).



 Smokey--my former foster kitten Puffin mentioned in the book—is visiting Pasha and I am amazed how much, in profile, he looks just like his illustrious ancestor.
Is it a wonder--or predestined--that I write ancient Egyptian fiction?

Friday, March 8, 2013

Cat Fight



Occasionally, Pasha and Lilliput fight for the middle of the pillow. It’s an ergonomic one (yes, I sacrificed it), so the middle-indent has become a favorite spot for watching the birds outside.
Pasha’s solution: If you won’t let me have it, I’ll just sit on you.

Quite soon, however, peace is restored and they live happily side by side. (Is there a lesson to be learned?)




And that's what I celebrate today for our Blog Hop:
Restored PEACE--at least in my house.


Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Pasha has a New Face



Spring calls for something new.







So, I opted for a new face
(alas, only for the book, not the cat and not me, either).

And in celebration of this, Pasha's story went on sale.

Kindle/Nook editions - reduced from $4.45 to $2.99.
Printed edition - reduced from $8.95 to $6.95



Tuesday, March 5, 2013

What Time is it?


It’s Spring and once again, humans mystify their pets by mucking about with the universal time. While this also muddles with some people’s head for a while, the animals know precisely what time it is.

Now, for at least another week, we have to tell our smart animals that it’s six, when they are used to getting you up at five. That’s what their internal clock tells them.

It is the one time, I can get back at Pasha for waking me up so early—or so I think—because, wait, I am still losing a precious hour’s sleep; at least, until my own internal clock adjusts. So who wins? It’s all together too confusing.