Tag Archive for: cats

Summer Is Perfect for Shorts!

/in /by

 by Sparkle Abbey

Here in the Midwest we’re finally seeing some regular summer weather but most of this summer has been hot, hot hot!

So no matter what your style vibe is, it’s truly been the perfect weather for shorts. 

We’re probably apt to flash a little less leg in our choices. 

Mostly because after a year of going nowhere and working inside, we not only don’t have any tan lines – we don’t have any tans at all. 

Caro and Mel, the heroines in our Pampered Pets mystery series would undoubtedly be much more daring And, after all, they do live in Laguna Beach. 

So, we’re thinking they’d have great stylish choices in shorts. 

How about you? Do you wear shorts? 

And, if so, what’s your favorite style? 

And by the way, since we’re talking short, summer is also the perfect time for short reads. We’ve been reading some of the award nominated shorts stories. Something quick for the deck or the beach or even for a road trip. So, we’re loving great novellas and short stories! And we’ve also just released our very first short – PROJECT DOGWAY. 

Here’s a little bit about it. 
Canines are on the “catwalk” at this Laguna Beach dog fashion show—a heartworm awareness fundraiser—where former Texas beauty queen and currently-not-speaking-to-each-other cousins, Caro and Mel, are in attendance. When award-winning show beagle, Shadow’s, owner drops dead from eating a deadly scallop ceviche, the cousins find themselves embroiled in much more than a fashion “faux paw.”
Project Dogway is available on all ebook platforms: 

Watch for our next short, coming soon! Any guesses on what Caro and Met will be up to next? 

Sparkle Abbey is actually two people, Mary Lee Ashford and Anita Carter, who write the national best-selling Pampered Pets cozy mystery series. They are friends as well as neighbors so they often get together and plot ways to commit murder. (But don’t tell the other neighbors.) 

They love to hear from readers and can be found on Facebook,and Twitter their favorite social media sites. 

Also, if you want to make sure you get updates, sign up for their newsletter via the SparkleAbbey.com website.

Getting the Word Out by Debra H. Goldstein

/in /by


Getting the Word Out by Debra H. Goldstein

I’ve been so busy balancing the pandemic, mentioning that the
fourth Sarah Blair book, Four Cuts Too Many, is available for pre-order, and writing
the fifth book for 2022, that I haven’t given quite as much love to recently
published Three Treats Too Many.

Part of my seeming neglect of Three Treats Too Many is that the
very day it came out in August 2020, is the same day we moved into our new house
(I know, only a fool builds a new home during a pandemic). Consequently, I was
balancing unpacking boxes, figuring out new appliances, reviewing edits for
Four Cuts, writing blogs, and doing virtual appearances. I can honestly say
there were days I whipped off my t-shirt, grabbed a nice top, and barely made
it on to the computer looking like a human being from the waist up. And then, I
found myself glued to the news.

I know I am not the only author who has been a little off
my game, so I’m inviting you to mention your new books in the comments below. Let’s
give ourselves a round of applause for being published during these crazy
times!!!

Oh, and here is what Three Treats Too Many is about:

When a romantic rival opens a competing
restaurant in small-town Wheaton, Alabama, Sarah Blair discovers murder is the
specialty of the house . . . 
 
For someone whose greatest culinary skill is
ordering takeout, Sarah never expected to be co-owner of a restaurant. Even her
Siamese cat, RahRah, seems to be looking at her differently. But while Sarah
and her twin sister, Chef Emily, are tangled up in red tape waiting for the
building inspector to get around to them, an attention-stealing new
establishment—run by none other than Sarah’s late ex-husband’s mistress,
Jane—is having its grand opening across the street. 
 
Jane’s new sous chef, Riley Miller, is the talk
of Wheaton with her delicious vegan specialties. When Riley is found dead
outside the restaurant with Sarah’s friend, Jacob, kneeling over her, the
former line cook—whose infatuation with Riley was no secret—becomes the prime
suspect. Now Sarah must turn up the heat on the real culprit, who has no
reservations about committing cold-blooded murder . . .
 
 Includes quick and easy recipes!    Try it…. You might like it….

 

I’m on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and I Don’t Want to Get Off

/in /by

I’m on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and I Don’t Want to Get Off by Debra H.
Goldstein

The first
time I rode Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, a dark attraction at Disney, I loved it. It
was fast paced, had quirky turns that led to unexpected encounters, and was
fun. I look at everything to do with One
Taste Too Many as being like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

In reviews,
the book has been called suspenseful, fast paced, and edgier than most cozies.
I think that’s because I tend to write a cozy that edges into the traditional
mystery. I have the cat, small closed setting, cast of suspects, and murder off
the page, but I also have numerous quirky turns and unexpected encounters. As in
Mr. Toad’s Ride, where when intellectually I knew nothing would happen, out of
a fright response, I put my hand up once or twice to avoid something touching my
face or jumping out at me, there are red herrings and twists to keep readers on
edge.

From the
moment of One Taste Too Many’s
launch, it has been a wild ride. Expected and unexpected reviews have been
favorable and plentiful, blogs galore have appeared (forty-four plus, but whose
is counting?), I had the delightful opportunity to write four blogs with one of
my favorite writers, Barbara Ross, comparing our cooking styles (non-existent),
settings (North and South), regional food, and showing what might happen if the
characters from Steamed Open and One Taste Too Many met, and people have
been genuinely kind and excited for me.

There is a
lot of work involved with launching a book. I’m not particularly good at
juggling PR duties with writing, and while I’m trying to move my work in
progress along, I’m savoring every moment of my wild ride.  Thanks for being on it with me!

One Taste Too Many:

For culinary challenged Sarah Blair, there’s only one
thing scarier than cooking from scratch—murder!
Sarah knew starting over would be messy. But things fall apart completely when
her ex drops dead, seemingly poisoned by her twin sister’s award-winning
rhubarb crisp. Now, with RahRah, her Siamese cat, wanted by the woman who broke
up her marriage and her twin wanted by the police for murder, Sarah needs to
figure out the right recipe to crack the case before time runs out.
Unfortunately, for a gal whose idea of good china is floral paper plates,
catching the real killer and living to tell about it could mean facing a fate
worse than death—being in the kitchen 

Book Fog

/in /by

by Sparkle Abbey

We’ve all experienced it, right? That feeling when you’ve been so immersed in a story that you come up for air and the real world seems a little foggy.

As a reader, those are the best books aren’t they? The author has succeeded at taking us on a journey. We’ve lived in the world they’ve created and spent time with characters who seem like real people.

What readers might not realize is that writers experience book fog, too, but in our creative role, in a slightly different way.

Writers have many different approaches to writing a book – some plot extensively, others just jump in and write, and some revise as they writer. But regardless of the process, when we complete a book, we have lived with these characters, in this world we’ve created, living their hopes and dreams and conflicts, for a very long time.

We’re often asked: How does it feel when a book is done? Are you excited? We have to say, we’re almost always in a book fog. We’re tired, we feel that writing “the end” euphoria, but mostly we feel that a part of us is still in that book world.

Writers, we’re sure you’ll recognize what that’s like. Readers, the best way for us to explain it is that it’s like the feeling you get when the story captures you so completely that, for a little while after you finish the book, you’re still in – 1920s Australia, 1740 Scotland, or modern day Laguna Beach.

So readers, we have to ask, what was the last book that gave you book fog?

Leave a comment and we’ll draw for a prize in the next week!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sparkle Abbey is the pseudonym of mystery authors Mary Lee Woods and Anita Carter. They write the national best-selling Pampered Pets cozy mystery series which combines murder, zany characters and the wacky world of pampered pets. Their latest book, Barking with the Stars, will be released November 17th and can be pre-ordered right now on Amazon, Kobo, and iBooks.

Four Reasons to Include Dogs and Cats in Adult Fiction

/in /by
By AB Plum






Writing noir stories short on violence, but long on psychological darkness, I often take a break to read something light or uplifting. I recently finished The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein (https://www.amazon.com/Art-Racing-Rain-Novel-ebook/). I cried often.

When I finished the last sentence, I closed the book and thought about why I include dogs or cats in my romantic comedies and also in my darker psychological thrillers. 

1.  Dogs and cats bring out the best in my male characters. The four-legged characters have all come from shelters or “adopted” the hero.

Subtext: These guys—or in two instances young boys—vulnerable for many reasons, caring for their furry companions, show the reader they also take time to care for someone besides themselves.

2.  Dogs and cats can increase or decrease tension—especially sexual tension between the Hero and Heroine. In two of my novels, old, abandoned cats fall for the Heroine just like the Hero does.      


Subtext: Woe unto the Heroine who doesn’t like the Hero’s feline.



3.  Dogs and cats offer unconditional love to kids caught up in the twists and turns of the plot. Little boys can play Frisbee or chase with a dog and forget his parents’ divorce or his father’s disappearance. A teen-age girl, on the other hand, prefers a cat because they—frankly— smell better.

Subtext: Cats are a lot like teen-age girls: Wannabe divas. Dogs are a lot like five-and-six-year-old males:  Seekers of physical distraction.



4. Dogs and cats provide lots of chances to inject humor—often physical. Even on the darkest pages I write, I want to offer at least a ray of light. 

Subtext: A smile or a chuckle often works as well as a belly laugh to give the reader a bit of relief.
What about you, do you prefer all your characters to be human[oid]? Shoot me a yes-or-no reply:  ab@abplum.com. I answer all my email.

******************  
Accompanied by canine-companions in Southern Missouri, I developed a love of walking fast. Disregarding my Creative Writing prof’s advice, I wrote about the death of a favorite dog and received a C+. Maybe I’ve found the origins of this blog.
Coming in mid-October, The Early Years, the first serial installment of The MisFit Series. No dogs or cats until Book 4.

Hiss. Hiss. Hiss!

/in /by

by Marjorie Brody

It started about two weeks ago. A sound. At night, when the house was quiet. A hiss. Just a single hiss. Enough to make me look up from the book I was reading, yet not loud enough for me to be sure I even heard anything. But the next night, I heard it again.

The hiss was definitely not my imagination.

I got up from my chair and checked the area in the room where I’d heard the sound. I found . . . nothing.

The hiss repeated the next night, slightly louder.  Now I was thinking a wounded cat hovered on the other side of the wall. I looked out the window, but of course, the darkness of night prevented me from seeing more than my reflection.

I gathered my flashlight and crept out the door. The sweeping yellow beam highlighted my plants, the waterfall
and fish pond, the barbeque grill, and the lawn that desparately needed cutting. But no cat in distress.

The hissing went on for several nights. Each time louder and seemingly more angry. By the beginning of the week, the angry hissing occurred during daylight as well as nighttime, at unpredictable times, and was no longer a single hiss, but a pairing—as if two cats, with arched backs, hackles raised and teeth barred, were in a stare-down with each other.

I concluded there must be an animal in the wall, although I didn’t know how anything could live in such a narrow space. Our two Yorkiepoos and one Silkie Terrier were now cocking their heads and listening to the hisses. Other people in the house now heard the sounds—but we could never predict when they would occur.

Friends told me that possums made hissing sounds and so did raccoons. I feared a rabid animal would hurt our beloved puppies.

I called animal control. They said call an exterminator. I found one that would catch-and-release–if the animals were not rabid. The inspector went into our attic, found no animal droppings, but did see a worn area in the insulation near the soffits. He also reported animal tracks (“I’m no tracker. I couldn’t say what kind of animal.”) in the dried dirt around the back of the house. The offered solution: plug up all the unwanted entry points to the house. Anything larger than a quarter. Then set traps in the attic. With the animals unable to leave the house to get food, they’d get hungry and go for the bait. Cost: Originally quoted at $1200. But because we had so few spots to plug, the price was reduced to $979.12.

I hesitated. That was still a lot of money. I needed to sleep on the decision.

Hissing pierced the night, more frequently, more strong, and more angry than ever. What if the animal, or animals, ate the insides of the walls? Or chewed the electrical wires? (We had an escaped hamster do that once when the children were young.) What if the critters had babies in the attic or inside the walls?

The inspector returned the next day. The hissing, now gnarling–something obviously was not happy living here–sounded as he walked up to the front door, but as if knowing his purpose, remained silent while he was inside our home. I gave permission for his company to rid the house of our unhappy inhabitant.

No sooner had the inspector stepped off the porch, contract in hand, did the angry, hungry, pregnant opossum my writer’s mind envisioned make another clawing, fighting hiss. Only this time, our home health aide heard it and knew how to exorcise the hissing. Without setting a single catch-and-release trap.

I’m tempted to leave you with the question: How do you think the aide got rid of the critter and its hiss? Then I could wait until next month to give you the answer, and by then, maybe you’d have forgotten I brought up this whole topic.

But I won’t. I’ll expose my sense of feeling oh so stupid. I’ll reveal my total sense of humiliation.

The hissing came from an automatic room deodorizer. The lower the contents inside the decorative container, the louder and more often and more distorted the puff being pushed from the decanter became. I could even make the sound at will, once I knew I could override the automatic timer and press a manual button.

This tale has no moral. No lesson to learn. It may demonstrate how a writer’s mind playing the “what if” game in real life can lead to a story to share with friends and colleagues. Feel free to have a laugh at my expense. My family laughed for hours.

P.S. My novel TWISTED is a finalist for the Red City Review Book Awards. It’s the third honor for this psychological suspense. And, it’s on sale now on Kindle and the Nook for $1.99. http://tinyurl.com/o6smtws and http://tinyurl.com/p8f9uw2. If you haven’t read TWISTED,  please check it out.

Marjorie Brody is an award-winning author and Pushcart Prize Nominee. Her short stories appear in literary magazines and the Short Stories by Texas Authors Anthology and four volumes of the Short Story America Anthology. Her debut psychological suspense novel, TWISTED, was awarded an Honorable Mention at the Great Midwest Book Festival and won the Texas Association of Authors Best Young Adult Fiction Book Award. TWISTED is available in digital and print at http://tinyurl.com/cv15why or http://tinyurl.com/bqcgywl. Marjorie invites you to visit her at: www.marjoriespages.com. 

Anyone for tea and crumpets…and murder?

/in /by

by Sparkle Abbey

We’re so excited about our new book, Downton Tabby, which is due out in June. Our fab publisher, Bell Bridge Books, is doing some fun promo with a cover reveal at Goodreads on May 15th, a blog tour, special pricing on our backlist, and the placement of a short, featuring Toria, the feline star of Downton Tabby.

We thought you might enjoy reading the short so here goes…

Cats dressed in period clothing

The Pawleys 
A brief episode in the British family history of Lady Toria Cash, the feline fatale of Downton Tabby

“Can you believe that alley cat?” Lady Meow Grandcatham lifted her whiskers in disdain. “Thinking I’d simply fall under the spell of his gorgeous green eyes.”

I shook my head. “He does seem rather cheeky.” I’m Annakatrina, Lady’s Meow’s lady’s maid, and the alley cat she was referring to was Alexander Kittingham who’d apparently made a play for Lady Meow in a big way.

I carefully folded the lace frill she’d worn to dinner and reached for the brush I used every night on her silky black fur. Though I would never bring it up to Lady Meow, talk below stairs was that Alexander Kittingham was not actually a purebred British shorthair. He was often referred to as “Alley” in a disparaging tone, by Thomas Cat, Lord Grandcatham’s valet. Alexander was quite a handsome fellow and a favorite of the ladies around the dinner bowl.

He was nice looking with dark brown fur and deep green eyes, but I was not impressed. You see I’m madly in love with Mr. Bait. Poor Mr. Bait is currently locked up in the pound, but I had no doubt he would soon be freed.

“Beyond cheeky, I’d say.” Lady Meow lifted her paw to her neck. “Would you help me get out of this collar?”

I pulled on the diamond collar with my teeth and it snapped off easily. Carefully placing it in the ornate trinket box, I picked up the brush again.

Suddenly, there was a scratch at the door and I moved quickly to open it.  Lady Vi, Meow’s grandmother, stepped into the room. She was a formidable feline and referred to as the Dogwagger Countess because even the dogs at the neighboring estates were afraid of her. I don’t believe she’d ever actually bitten anyone, canine or otherwise, but all it took was a hiss and the very slight unsheathing of her claws and it was clear she meant business.

“Grandmother.” Lady Meow purred. “What a surprise.”

cat in straw hat“Not an unpleasant one, I hope.” The older feline stepped closer so Lady Meow could bump noses with her.

“I’ll leave you.” I moved quietly on soft paws toward the door.

“No, please stay.” The Dogwagger waved her tail in my direction. “I know Meow trusts you.”

“What is it, Grandmama?” Lady Meow dropped on her haunches. “Is something wrong?”

“What is wrong is my sources tell me someone is publishing a catty tell all tome about the Britain’s aristocats. I am told there’s a whole chapter devoted to the Grandcatham Family.” She leaned on the edge of Lady’s Meow’s bed and smoothed her fur.

Lady Meow began to pace. “Have you told Pappa’?

The Dogwagger shook her head. “No, nor your mother. It will be up to us to sort this out.” She gave a deep sigh and tipped her head to look at me. “We must find out who this low-life is and stop him or her before our good name is dragged through the litter box.” Sharp blue eyes pinned me in place.

“What can I do to help, M ‘lady?”

“My dear, you must be our eyes and ears.” The Dogwagger put her paws together as if it were all settled. “You can go places we must not and you will never be noticed.”

I had the thought that not being noticed was hardly complimentary, but knew she was right.

“You will help us, won’t you, Anna?” Lady Meow crossed the room in a single smooth leap to stand in front of me. Her golden eyes searched my face.

“Of course, I will.” I bowed my head.

And thus began my new career as Annakatrina, Cat Sleuth.

What would Mr. Bait think?

Downton Tabby, book seven in The Pampered Pets Mysteries by Sparkle Abbey, is now available for pre-order at Amazon. Pre-order now and send us an email with “Downton Tabby Pre-Order” in the subject line and you’ll be entered in the drawing for this adorable Andrew Cardew teapot and a canister of special blend, Downton Abbey tea.

Also, if you’re missing any of our backlist this is a great time to grab them. Details here.

And if you want to make sure you’re up on all the Sparkle Abbey news, stop by our website and sign up for updates at sparkleabbey.com.

Art credits: 
Siamese Cat in a straw hat © Nizhava1956 | Dreamstime.com 
Loving cats in 1900 © Lestoquoy Véronique | Dreamstime.com

Feeling Lucky – Friday the 13th by Debra H. Goldstein

/in /by

FEELING LUCKY – FRIDAY THE 13TH by Debra H. Goldstein

Walk under a ladder, admire the black cat that runs across my path, and not carry a lucky penny, rabbit’s foot, or charm are all things I’m going to do today. It’s Friday the 13th, probably one of the most feared and safest days when it falls. This year, 2015, the 13th day of the month falls on Friday in February, March and November.

According to Wikipedia, my main source of factual information for today’s blog, there is dispute as to when it truly became such a superstitious day. Some say the Middle Ages, others the 19th century, but all agree that it became a popularized day of fear through literature. Although it was mentioned in an earlier published biography, the 1907 book Friday the Thirteenth by Thomas W. Lawson, in which a broker uses the superstition of the day to create a Wall Street panic, was the first bestseller to dwell on the date. More modern books to capitalize on Friday the 13th include John J. Robinson’s Born in Blood: The Lost Secrets of Freemasonry (1989) and The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown (2003).

Wikipedia references a study by the Ashville, North Carolina Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute as estimating seventeen to twenty-one million people in the United States are impacted by fear when the 13th falls on a Friday. These people avoid normal business activities, traveling, “or even getting out of bed.”

Not me. I have enough things happen on other days that Friday the 13th is simply one more day – good or bad. Hopefully, because of everyone else’s fears, I can get a discount on an airline ticket, be safer on the roads because people tend to drive more carefully on Friday the 13th, and not worry about a bucket of paint dropping on me when I walk under that ladder because my painter opted to stay home. I know already that I’m lucky – you’re reading this blog.

Tell me, are you afraid of Friday the 13th? Have any Friday the 13th experiences to share?

Ah, the Joys of Home Work

/in /by

by Susan McBride

My husband thinks I’m so lucky. As a full-time writer, I work at home, which means I don’t have to fight rush-hour traffic in the morning or change out of my pajamas until noon. He’s jealous, too, that the cats can hang out in my office, their furry lengths draped across my lap or my desk. Only there are drawbacks to being a work-at-homer, kind of along the lines of “anything too good to be true usually is.”

Like when you realize your home is your office so there’s no leaving work at work. I’m envious that Ed gets to put being a software engineering team manager out of his head once he drives out of the company lot. Once he’s kicking back on the sofa in front of the widescreen, he’s ready to chill (unless it’s the weekend, and the list of chores on the fridge is making him cross-eyed).

When I’m on deadline for a first draft, revisions, copy-edits, whatever, my work is constantly calling to me, 24/7. I don’t get to turn it off, shift “job” to another part of my brain, and relax. I know that everytime I walk upstairs past my office, there’s more to be done. So I frequently find myself saying, “I just need to write for a bit,” and I’ll disappear for hours. It’s no wonder I sometimes forget what day of the week it is since I’m often at the keyboard pounding away even on weekends.

Oh, yeah, and there’s that lovely side effect of home-as-office which awards the lucky work-at-homer the opportunity to wait on and (for lack of a better word) supervise every repairman and delivery. So, let’s say, when it’s time for an AC check and the dude “will arrive sometime between eight and noon” or the new dishwasher is coming “anytime next Thursday,” yep, yours truly gets to meet-and-greet. It’s hard to write when someone’s installing an appliance, which entails a good amount of banging noises and switching off of electrical circuits. I can’t seem to get deeply into a scene when a stranger in my house keeps calling, “Ma’am?” from downstairs. Even on no-repairman days, there are always loads of laundry, vacuuming, mopping, trips to the grocery store and bank, and other miscellaneous chores that fall to me. I do try to squeeze in the treadmill occassionally, too, even if it’s the middle of the afternoon. More often than not, the doorbell rings right after I’ve stepped out of the shower, and it’s the UPS guy. I’ve actually signed for packages with a towel wrapped around my middle and one hastily wound around my dripping head. (Well, like that old Wells Fargo Wagon song from “Music Man,” it might be somethin’ special just for me! Most recently, it was hot-off-the-press copies of LOVE, LIES, AND TEXAS DIPS…Oooo!!!)

As for our cats sweetly purring in my lap as I type…ha! That’s only in my husband’s wild imagination. Usually, they’re chasing each other around the house, howling and spitting as they fling themselves atop my desk and swat at each other, knocking papers to the floor and often stepping on various keys on my keyboard. Once Munch plopped down on the “Enter” key and suddenly a 10-page chapter turned into hundreds of blank pages. This weekend, Max hopped up and clicked the mouse with his paw, sending an email I was writing in reply to a blogger doing a contest for one of my books…before I’d half-finished it. Thanks, Maxwell.

It’s a wonder anything ever gets done. Speaking of which, excuse me a minute while I dump another load in the washing machine, throw some clothes in the dryer, and let the plumber in. I have a feeling Munch and Max will attempt some very interesting revisions for me while I’m gone.

**************
EXCITING NEWS: My second Debs novel, LOVE, LIES, AND TEXAS DIPS, will be released on June 9. I’m giving away five copies on my web site so drop by and enter!

Rats, and I do mean rats

/in /by

In real life these four legged critters with long tails are nothing like the cute little guys in the movie Ratatouille. Near the bathroom that’s being remodeled–a project that ought to be done, but isn’t–there’s a storage closet that juts into the backyard.

One of our cats, Squeaky, wanted to go in there in the worst way. Hubby asked her what she wanted in there, opened the door and she immediately trapped a rat. My grown grandson and hubby managed to get rid of it, started looking around and found four nests! Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!

After lots of work, they were sure they’d gotten rid of them all and cleaned up all the mess. That was yesterday. Today I was hard a work in my office at the far end of the hall from the closet. I had a box inside of a box next to my desk that I planned to pack some stuff in. Squeaky was poking around in it and I thought she wanted to get inside, so I lifted out the smaller box. What did I see? A big rat! I went screaming outside to get hubby.

He is not fast enough moving for me–needless to say, I did not go back into my office for a long, long while. Squeaky kept the rat trapped, husband disposed of it. More yuk! Later on in the day, something crashed down the hall. Yep, Squeaky had another one of the monsters cornered. Again, I called my husband and disappeared for awhile.

He has assured me that all of the rats have been taken care of, and Squeaky is taking a much deserved nap, but I’ll probably have nightmares tonight. We have two other cats, but they don’t seem to have the same instincts Squeaky does.

I’ve been trying really hard to finish the book I’m working on, but it was difficult to concentrate today.

Hubby says when you live in the country you have to expect to have critters now and then. Well, I’m not afraid of spiders, which we have plenty of, nor am I afraid of rattlers–not that I mess with them, but I don’t scream in horror when one decides to visit. I can kill a scorpion and catch a lizard and put it outside. But rats? I’m sure the neighbors heard me screaming even though none of them live very close.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com