And Along Came T-bone

LUCY BURDETTE: I've had a cat in my life ever since the year I turned 13. I was desperate for two things for that birthday--Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees, and a kitten. My mother was wise enough to agree to the kitten. It was January, though, and not the kitten season. She found one who'd been returned to the pound by his adoptive family. We called him Tigger, and I still have the receipt stamped "No Refund."

You might remember that both of our furry family members died this past summer. I have missed them terribly and worried I'd never find animal friends so wonderful. And I needed time to grieve, and negotiate what would be next with John.

But Monday my birthday came around again (a frightening number of years past 13) and I decided, with much encouragement, to go take a look at the Florida Keys animal shelter.

The shelter is located out on Stock Island, and it's tiny and bursting with animals. The volunteers and workers are very eager to get to the new building, most likely in February. This is the office and waiting room--on the other end was a gray cat in a cage named "Saucy," a gila monster, hamsters, an enormous snake, and many birds. And this being Key West, there was a rooster behind a gate.

My friend Stan went with me--I can't begin to describe how overwhelming it was to see 60 cats in four tiny rooms...How to choose? I was thinking of a tiger, either yellow like Tigger, or gray like Evinrude in the Key West mysteries. 

This guy had nice stripes...

Black cat on shelf

Cat in sink

Rocky was adorable but he seemed very shy

We met T-bone, who'd been spotted by a friend from the gym...

And then along came Ramp, a very frisky kitten who launched himself onto my chest and clung there purring...

I said to Stan, "I guess I've been chosen." So we went back to the office and told them I'd sign on for Ramp.

"Oh," said Del, the administrative assistant, "Ramp has a lot of heat around him." (Cat-shelter speak for he's hot.) "We've got four applications already on him."

"Ok, what about T-bone?"

"He has a hold application on him, too."

So I went back home, disappointed and unable to choose another. Two days later, my gym friend emailed again with photos of T-bone:

He greeted me at the door 
Played and purred
Followed me to the other rooms

The people with the hold are not ‘this cat specific’

Go adopt him

And so I did. He spent the first couple hours in the laundry room while I read in the hall and chatted with him. 

"T-bone, what do you know about social media?" I asked.

"Not much, mom, but I can learn."

And then he came out and there's no going back...

At the end of his first day...(gotta love the two-toned paw...)

And here's the next morning...

I admit to being completely besotted. So you'll be seeing lots of T-bone! And ps, here he is at the Marathon Vet Hospital on Monday, because yes, he developed a virus and got sick as a proverbial dog 4 days in. He says he's fine now, thanks for asking.

And here he is yesterday, feeling very much better and very much at home. 

Stripes on stripes

Thanks to my sister Sue, Bunnie, Leigh, Renee, Cheryl, and Stan for nudging me along. And to the wonderful folks at the SPCA who rescue so many animals and take care of what they need so they can find homes. If you're looking for a cat, go there....

If you had or have a special animal friend in your life, how did you find them?

What We're Writing @LucyBurdette #giveaway

LUCY BURDETTE: What we are writing week seems to come around very fast, especially if we're not writing something we can share! I have completed the copy edits for KILLER TAKEOUT, and now await the page proofs. This is always a fun stage, because seeing those pages makes the book feel so real.


I'm also noodling around with an idea for an eighth Key West book, should the publisher clamor for that. It's too early to say much about it other than it would take full advantage of the changing climate with Cuba. (Remember, Key West is only 90 miles from Havana.) (And if you are anxious for another installment, the best way to make that happen is to preorder KT.) And I have been working on the proposal for what might be called a novel of suspense. So plenty of balls are being juggled!


I thought I'd share a scene from KILLER TAKEOUT that takes place on the dock where Hayley and Miss Gloria live in their houseboat. I have a lot of fun jamming local people and places into my books, including the names of pets. Schnootie the schnauzer came from an SPCA auction, and now her brother, Dinkels, an elderly black cat, will be making an appearance. Another friend was very disappointed that her cat didn't make the cut, so Jack has been layered in too. You might remember that both Hayley and Miss Gloria have cats, so of course they are in this scene as well. (Don't even think about all those litter boxes on the high seas!)


As I puttered up to the parking lot in front of Tarpon Pier, feeling the breath of relief and gratitude that always greets me when I realize I’m at home, I heard a huge ruckus on the dock. The racket radiated from Schnootie the schnauzer, whose barking echoed hysterically from the Renharts’ houseboat. As I strode up the finger, I spotted Miss Gloria on the Renharts’ deck. This never happens because Mr. Renhart abhors socializing. Over the incessant yapping of the schnauzer came the shrieking and growling of what sounded like hyenas. A lot of them.

I was pretty sure I recognized Evinrude’s angry cat voice among the yowls.

I broke into a trot, arriving just as Miss Gloria dove into a cartoon maelstrom of spinning legs and feet and fur and emerged with my tiger cat.

And that break in the action gave enough space for Miss Gloria’s black cat Sparky to rush back into the fray. So much was happening that I wasn’t certain who was fighting—or how many of them. But when Schnootie lunged into the whirling fur, I saw my chance and snatched Sparky out. Her chest heaving, Mrs. Renhart wrestled down two other long-haired cats, one pure black and one furry gray with a white face and neck and striking green eyes.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, her voice squeaky with exertion. “What a way to meet the new neighbors. And I so hoped my new kitties could be friends with yours.” She looked utterly bedraggled and forlorn, the two big cats clutched under her arms.

“These belong to you? Let us put our guys away,” I said, gritting my teeth as I smiled. “Then we can have a proper introduction.”
Miss Gloria and I carried our squirming, growling felines back to the dock and locked them in our houseboat. “What in the world was she thinking?” I muttered.

“I think she’s mostly lonely,” said Miss Gloria. “She sees how our animals get along so nicely and she wanted to copy us.” She shrugged and grinned, the skin around her eyes crinkling with laughter. “Take it as a compliment.”

“You’re right as usual,” I said, and gave her a quick hug. Another way I felt lucky in my life—this amazing and unlikely roommate. When I first met her, I sized her up as a frail but quirky old lady, a relic living out her last shaky legs on Houseboat Row. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

We started back to the Renharts’ houseboat, where our neighbor had—thank goodness—put Schnootie away in their cabin. Her new cats had retreated under the deck chairs. And Mrs. R was laying out a gallon jug of inexpensive white wine and a plate of Oreo cookies.

“I’m so sorry about all that; I just wasn’t thinking.” She poured the wine into three plastic glasses and passed them to us. In the background, Schnootie yelped and slammed her weight repeatedly against the screen door—a one-dog percussion section.

“It was our cats’ fault as much as anything,” said Miss Gloria, and thunked her glass against each of ours in a plastic toast. “They love a good fracas. Now tell us the story of these new kitties. Are you fostering?” She wiggled her fingers at the black cat who approached her cautiously and sniffed.

Jack Melendy

I scratched the big gray cat behind his ears. He closed his eyes for a moment as if to enjoy the rub, then darted under Mrs. Renhart’s chair. I took a sip of my wine and a bite of the cookie, neither of which fit into my calories-for-today plan. But our neighbor had never invited us over before, and she seemed desperate to keep us there for a bit. “Red velvet Oreo? Delicious,” I said, as I knelt down on the deck and ran my hand over the big black cat’s back. “Who is this beauty?”

Dinkels

“That’s Dinkels,” said Mrs. Renhart, breaking into a huge smile. “He’s almost fifteen. Can you imagine sending a fifteen-year-old cat to the animal shelter? The workers said he seems to think he’s a dog.”

“He’s got gorgeous eyes,” I said. “And a powerful presence.”

“And beautiful fur,” said Miss Gloria dutifully. “And who is this other handsome fella?” She leaned down to peer at the gray cat.

“That’s Jack,” said Mrs. R. “They think he’s even older than Dinkels, but he’s sweet and dignified.” Her eyes teared up and she ran her fingers through one cat’s fur and then the other’s.
“I don’t know what came over me. I was sitting here yesterday thinking about how happy I was to have Schnootie in my life, and how I should give back what she’s given me by adopting more animals. And the next thing I know, I’m running a home for elderly felines.” She hooted with laughter and took a slug of wine. “Mr. Renhart, as you can imagine, is not amused.”

We laughed along with her, probably howling a little louder than was polite.

Meanwhile, if you are still short on stocking stuffers, you might enjoy browsing my Pinterest board with tons of suggestions about mysteries that would slide nicely into a stocking! If you like Christmas-themed cozies, don't forget DEATH WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS.

In fact, I think we should give away a signed copy of DEATH WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS to go in someone's stocking. Leave a comment with your email to be entered.

And how could I resist sharing this photo from last weekend's Key West Christmas parade?

Lucy with Officer Joe

2014: A Pet Odyssey

Susan Emerson is the lucky winner of a copy of C. L. Pauwels FORTY & OUT! Susan, please contact Cyndi with your maiing address. Cyndi is at cynpauw “at” gmail dot com.


JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I'm going to be perfectly upfront with you, dear readers - this post exists solely for the purpose of showing off pictures of my pets. If you don't care for dogs and cats, I suggest you head over to Wikipedia and delve into their article on Hegelian dialectics. Because honestly, if you don't like dogs and cats, what are you doing on the internet? Isn't it like 99% comprised of cute pet pics and videos?(1)

Our story starts with Marvin, our beloved Big Dog. (2) We adopted Marvin from the Kennebec Humane Society back in 2008, after a lengthy on-line search and a terrifying two-hour car ride wherein we discovered our learning-to-drive Smithie was not ready for the Maine Turnpike Experience. (3) Marvin was and is a sweet, placid beast who was probably abandoned in the early months of the Great Recession by owners who could no longer afford his Lyme Disease treatment. (4)

Marvin was our sole pet for a couple years, until our family got hit with a one-two punch in August of '10. We packed The Smithie off to college for the first time, and Ross was diagnosed with melanoma. (5) Youngest and I, feeling a bit overwhelmed, did the most cliche thing imaginable: we got a half-grown kitten. Neko was on display at our local hardware store as part of the loan-out program of the Maine Animal Refuge League. We went in to buy energy-efficient light bulbs and some potting soil and came out with an adoption application. (6)

We always intended to have a companion for Neko, but as kids came and went from college and high school, life seemed too busy to actually invest the time into finding another cat. Until this summer. With the whole family home, my two daughters, drunk with power, began  concerted lobbying campaign my 20-year-old son dubbed "Operation Get Pussy." (7)

When Youngest found out the Coastal Humane Society was having a Christmas in July event - with free cat adoptions - I weakened enough to agree we could "go take a look." (8) Those of you who are parents can see where this is going. We came home with a scraggly, forlorn looking young cat who had been found knocking about the mean streets of Brunswick, ME. The joke was on us - once out of the constraints of the shelter, Juno spent approximately two days creeping about out house before declaring herself Queen Goddess of the Home: stealing Neko and Marvin's food (9), jumping on the counter to eat half a stick of butter, demanding affection and then biting the hand that scritches her. (10)

Neko, a year older and much wider, would still be giving Juno the stink-eye, if we hadn't done something to unite them in mutual disapproval. Yes, dear readers, last Sunday we adopted a second dog. (11) Not just a second dog, but a small dog, after decades of exclusively large dogs. Not a young dog to contrast with Marvin's aged dignity, but  dog that was nine years old. Louis (12) is a pure-bred shih tzu who was obviously well-loved by his owners until some trouble - losing jobs? medical bills? - left them homeless and unable to care for the little guy. It was a pleasure to be able to pick up the responsibility, despite what will be extra food costs; Louis' mouth was in such bad shape he needed dental surgery, and he comes to us with a happy heart but only three teeth. (13)

The upshot of our animal kingdom? For now, the girls are taking equal responsibility for feeding, walking and brushing (although guess who shovels out the litter box? Go ahead, guess!) (14) Now that everyone is back at school or work, I can write at home again, and do so surrounded by up to four animals at a time. (15) We have a nice balance of personalities and roles; the calm, remote cat and the lawless, slutty cat (16), the giant economy-sized dog and the single-serving dog.

And I urge you all, dear readers, to consider adoption from a shelter or rescue organization when it's time for you to expand your family. There are so many great cats and dogs out there - many of whom will not eat your butter and who have teeth! - who need homes. If you can't adopt, consider supporting your local shelter as a donor or volunteer.  I'm sure I'll be back to one of our wonderful no-kill shelters in Maine in four years... after all, we'll need to replace Youngest when she heads off to college!


(1) The other 1% consists of pr*n, theories about chemtrails, and authors shilling their books.

(2) Marvin is part yellow lab, part Husky, and part cow.

(3) She felt uncomfortable driving faster than the posted on-ramp speed, so she merged into busy 70mph traffic going 35 mph. That was the reason my hair turned silver.




 
(4) He's doing fine now. Sometimes he needs aspirin for his joints, but then again, so do I.

(5) He's doing fine, now, too. Ask him to show you his "shark bite" at Bouchercon!

(6) That's some fiendishly clever marketing right there. What else beside a kitten is interesting at a hardware store?

(7) I know. You don't have to say it. I know.

(8) Let's face it, free is a good price for a cat.

(9) and then barfing it up. Which is no deterrent to Marvin, who will take another shot at it  if I don't get it cleaned up asap.

(10) The squirt bottle is getting a workout.

(11) Coastal Humane Society was still having the adoption special, so it was a steal at $50. What right-thinking penny-pincher could resist?

(12) My grandfather Greuling was also called Louis. Mom, if you're reading this, his former owners gave him the name. Sorry.

(13) All this happened after The Boy had gone back to Trinity, leading to the following telephone conversation:
The Boy: Why did you get another dog?
Me: Well, honey, we missed you. We had to fill the void somehow.
The Boy: Is it true he only has three teeth?
Me: Yes. We've replaced you with  tiny, fluffy toothless old dog. It just seemed right somehow.

(14) Me.

(15) It feels kind of like that scene in the dwarves' kitchen in SNOW WHITE,  except instead of cleaning the room, my pets demand affection and fart.

(16) I'm using that word in an ironic, third-wave feminist way, of course.