Clea Simon--How Did You Meet Your Pet

DEBORAH CROMBIE: If there's one thing we love to talk about almost as much as books on Jungle Red, it's our animal companions. And if there's one thing author Clea Simon--who writes The Witch Cats of Cambridge series--should know about, it's cats. Here she has a heartwarming (and a little harrowing) story about meeting her latest feline muse, Thisbe.

 

CLEA SIMON: If you’ve read Lucy Burdette’s saga of bringing T-bone home, you know that adding a four-legged member of the family can be complicated. Reading about her adventures with the shelter brought me back to last winter and our own search for a new feline friend.

We had said goodbye to Musetta,  my own little muse, the previous September. 

But it took several months before I was ready to welcome a new cat into my life. By the time I was – sometime that winter – I faced the same problem that young Lucy did. Kitten season was several months away. Plus, in the 16-plus years since we’d adopted Musetta, the shelter situation had changed. In New England, people have gotten so good about neutering their pets that kittens were hard to come by. “Come before we open and with elbows out,” one Boston area shelter told me. (Older cats  – perfect pets for those who don’t want to deal with kitten craziness – are still begging for new homes!)

In desperation, we turned to PetFinder.org, where we saw a blurry snapshot of a cute little tortie gal. 

But when we asked if we could meet her – chemistry being crucial in an adoption – we were told she wasn’t in New England. She was going to be transported, along with her littermates, from West Virginia in a few weeks. If we wanted her, we could meet them in a parking lot outside Hartford on a particular Sunday evening – and we should have $50 in cash in an envelope.

Wow, did that raise questions – not to mention red flags. We’d been told that the kittens had been vetted, but how would we know for sure? Would these kittens be socialized? Healthy? Would we fall in love? Then again… that little face…

We tried to plan. I made an early morning vet appointment for the next day, choosing a big city vet that had a shelter. We barricaded off an area of our living room so the little creature wouldn’t be able to hurt herself – or evade capture the next morning when it was time for her checkup. Jon and I began bargaining – if she was FIV positive, we could keep her. If she was FeLV positive, well, we’d talk to the vets… We went to meet her knowing that we might surrender her the next day. At least she’d be off the streets, we told ourselves. If she had some horrible incurable illness, at least she’d have care – or a merciful end…

Reader, you can guess what happened next. We handed over our carrier and the $50 – hardly anything when you consider months of food, vet care, and transportation! – and brought a complaining kitten home. And when we opened that box, back in our “kitten safe” area, we met not a scared feral but a self-assured little fur person, intent on exploring her new domain. Several hours later, when went to bed, we dutifully barricaded her downstairs, only to hear the most plaintive mew. Yes, we lifted the barricade and Thisbe bolted upstairs to jump on our bed, where she settled on Jon’s pillow for the night.

You can guess the rest. Despite our fears, the vet found only the usual kitten issues – all resolvable with love and wormer. And now I find myself cat valet in chief once again, interrupting my writing to fetch and throw catnip mice, fish balls out from under the sofa, and generally act as aide-de-camp to my new feline mistress.

So, tell me, how did your pet come to you? Let’s a share our pre-Valentine’s Day love stories here!

 

The author of more than two dozen cozy/amateur sleuth mysteries featuring cats, three nonfiction books, and one punk rock urban noir, World Enough (Severn House), Clea Simon likes to keep busy.

 

 The Boston Globe best-selling author’s latest is A Spell of Murder, the first in a new “Witch Cats of Cambridge” cozy mystery series out this month from Polis Books. 

 Clea lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, with her husband and one (1) cat. She can be reached at www.cleasimon.com and on Twitter @Clea_Simon

Here's more about A SPELL OF MURDER

“It’s Harriet’s fault. It’s always her fault, not that she’ll ever admit it.” So begins A Spell of Murder: A Witch Cats of Cambridge mystery, the first in a new cozy series that mixes feline fiction with a touch of the paranormal, and a little romance as well.

Becca, newly single and newly unemployed, wants to believe she has psychic powers. With nothing but time – and a desire for empowerment – she’s studying to become a witch. What she doesn’t know is that her three cats – Harriet, Laurel, and Clara – are the ones with the real power. And when Harriet – “a cream-colored longhair with more fur than commonsense” – conjures a pillow for her own comfort, Becca believes her spells are finally working. Could that be why Trent, the coven’s devilishly handsome leader, has been showing her special attention? Or why Suzanne, a longtime coven member, draws her aside to share a secret – a confidence that may lead to murder?

“Delightful," raves Publishers Weekly. "You don’t have to be a cat lover to appreciate this paranormal cozy’s witty observations, entertaining dialogue, and astute characterizations."

DEBS: I LOVE tuxedo cats. We have one, and have had another, who alas is no longer meowing with us. But isn't it weird that black and white cats are not called "tuxedos" in the UK? It's so descriptive!

And I adore torties--fascinating cat genetics there. Thank you for sharing with us.

REDS and READERS, tell us how you met your pet! 

Clea is giving away a copy of A SPELL OF MURDER to one lucky commenter!

Practical Cats

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Someone once told me cats only say two things:
1. What time do I eat?
2. Everything here is mine.
I know that's what my cat Lola used to say. She was also big on "Where have you been? Do you not love me anymore?" "I hate dry food." "Move over."  "Who is that other stupid cat you brought home?"  And "I'm not following you, I was coming this way before you thought of it."

It's funny, now, to realize I often knew exactly what Lola was thinking. She was sympathetic and understanding, and knew when I was happy and when I was upset. She died at age 20, in my arms, and I haven't had a cat since.

Of course I fell in love with (the fabulous and iconic) Carolyn Hart instantly...years ago at Malice. Now her new book, WHAT THE CAT SAW, explores exactly the kind of thing that was happening between Lola and me. But--as so often happens--she reveals: it didn't start out that way.


                  CATS 

                    by Carolyn Hart

            A funny thing happened when I started to write a book where the heroine knows what a cat is thinking. I had - famous last words - a great idea for a cute, fun, lighthearted series set in a cat hotel. Our three felines live the live of Riley when we travel. They stay at Aristocats Feline Suites and Spa, individual rooms (no cages for these tabbies), water fountains, heated cushions, window views, fake tree perches. Now we may be at a down-at-heels motel with rowdy kids in the next room, tepid air conditioning, and a mysterious clanking in the air vents, but hey--we aren’t cats.

            My book would feature a young woman who had always hidden from everyone, including her family, the fact that when she looked at a cat, she knew what the cat was thinking. However, the imps of fate being what they are, her sister owned a feline hotel and had surgery and needed help while recuperating so the heroine was forced to deal with cats of all sorts, shapes, sizes, and thoughts. I foresaw possibly an imperious Persian boarding and the heroine learning that the owner was last seen on a misty morning after someone knocked at the door.

            Fellow writers will understand what happened next. When I sat down to start - always a by guess and by God process with me - cute cats and a lively heroine refused to respond to my plaintive calls.

            Instead, a young reporter who has lost her job on a small SoCal daily and is grieving the death of the fiancé in Afghanistan finds herself looking into cats’ eyes and seeing their thoughts. Nela Farley refuses to believe this is actually happening. She is a rational, smart, serious woman struggling with sorrow. She sees the transference of thoughts to the eyes of cats as a way of avoiding hard memories. Unsuccessful in her job search, Nela welcomes her sister Chloe’s request that she come to Oklahoma and take Chloe’s place at work for a couple of weeks. And therein lies a tale of suspense, danger, and possibly the ease of heartbreak.

            Nothing funny. Nothing cute. No talking cats.

            I think I turned away from my initial idea because I have such enormous respect for cats. They are - to me - God’s most elegant creatures, intelligent, perceptive, independent and incredibly attuned to their surroundings and the people in their lives.

            It may rather be on the order of a proud young mother who thinks her kid is always the brightest one in the room, but I have no doubt that my brown tabby Sister always knows how I feel and whether there is safety or danger in our immediate surroundings. We don’t really need the tornado sirens. Sister will tell us. And yes, cats care for their very own people. If I get up to leave the room, Sister escorts me down the hall and back again to the sofa where she decrees that we sit while we watch baseball.

            Sister knows if I’m happy or sad or upset. Sister knows if danger threatens. 

            And so does the cat in WHAT THE CAT SAW.   

HANK:  Tell us about your cat! Do you know what your cat is thinking? Does he or she know about you?
A copy of WHAT THE CAT SAW  to   a lucky commenter!