Celebrating the life of a furry little angel - by Vijaya Schartz

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I’ve always been in love with cats, and I can’t pass an adoption drive without looking at the cats.

I had lost a little part-Siamese I had for seventeen years, a few months before I saw Princess Jasmine for the first time. She was in a cage at Petsmart, and I noticed her right away. As I petted her and talked to her, I felt a connection with her… but the timing was wrong. So, I had to walk away… with regrets.

She was a young cat but no longer a kitten, and she had been through several surgeries after being mauled by her previous family dog while pregnant. After all her trials, her family chose the dog and abandoned her at the vet, who took her to a HALO no-kill shelter.

Two months later, I spotted Jasmine again during a special adoption drive at Petsmart. She still hadn’t been adopted despite her sunny personality. Her adoption fee had gone down, and this time I was in a position to adopt her. I took it as a sign that we must be destined for each other.

I took her to the house I shared with my now ex-husband. She enjoyed running in the backyard, chasing lizards, hunting bugs, and playing chicken with the chickens.

A few months later, afraid she might feel lonely, I adopted a kitten from a friend’s backyard litter, an adorable tuxedo we named Spunky for his fearless exploits.

Jasmine didn’t like him at all. She wanted the house to herself. But mainly Spunky liked my lap, her favorite place, and Jasmine didn’t like to share. So, she gave him the stink eye and kept her distance when he was near me.

 

One morning, as I was making the bed upstairs, Jasmine came up to me mewing and mewing. I could tell something was very wrong. She seemed to want me to follow her down the stairs, so I did. It was a beautiful day and the doors and windows were wide open. Jasmine took me to the front yard to the corner of the house, where a thick vine grew all the way to the top of the chimney.

And there, the reckless little kitten who had tried to climb the vine, was crying pitifully, out of strength, barely able to move, entangled so tightly in the vine, that I couldn’t free him with my bare hands. I had to get some cutters to cut the strands constricting his little belly.

Although Jasmine resented the kitten, she had come to get me when he was in trouble. Don’t tell me animals don’t have a soul. And there are angels among them. Jasmine was definitely an angel and saved this kitten’s life that day.

From then on, Spunky lost his spunk, and Jasmine became the alpha mama cat. Later on, we brought in a few occasional strays and abandoned kittens who needed a home. Jasmine never played with them but watched them play from the top of the stairs.

Spunky grew into a beautiful cat but didn’t stay with us very long. He had faulty genes and a neurologic condition (like his brother who remained with my friend and also died early). It’s sometimes the case with feral kittens. Bless his little soul.

Shortly after Spunky’s passing, my husband and I separated. Of course, I took my little princess Jasmine with me. She was happy from then on to be the only cat in the home, even if it was a small apartment without a yard. She could lie in my lap every night, and sleep on my bed, and demand tuna and get it from me every time. And she never had to share anything again, not her toys, not my lap, not my bed, not the food, not my affection.

She became a lazy fat cat that my friends called “well fed” so as to spare her feelings. But for the past year or so, Jasmine had been losing weight. At first, it seemed like a good thing, and she could move better, and jump on the bed again, to wake me up every morning before sunrise.

Her passing didn’t really come as a surprise, since she was sixteen and had a hard beginning, but I cry every time I see her in my mind, that cute little angel, sleeping with eyes open, unseeing, her soul already in a better place. My apartment feels empty without her. I miss her sorely. R.I.P. little angel.

When I’m ready to love again, I will adopt another cat, but first this pain has to heal.

In the meantime, Jasmine still lives in my books, as she was the inspiration for many of my cat characters, who, like her, are telepathic, and angelic in nature.

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Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
http://www.vijayaschartz.com

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Ah sweet love! —Tricia McGill

 

Find this and all my other books on my BWL Author page

While going back over long forgotten posts I came across one I wrote ages ago. Because I write Romances and am a glutton for happy ever after endings, of course I tend to look at life through those rose-tinted specs, even though I know that in real life only a small percentage of love affairs end in that happy ever after. 

Love comes in many guises of course. In my life I’ve known all about abiding love. The kind that comes with having a loving family around you—and the kind that comes with having true and trusted friends. Most importantly, the kind that comes with having a long and contented marriage with a steady, dependable man. My late husband was my best friend. He knew things about me no one else did, even my family—it was he who encouraged me to follow my dreams when I began to write. Each form of love brings a certain amount of heartache of course and has varying degrees of laughter and tears attached. I know I’ve been blessed, as some people know no love at all in their entire barren lifetime.

Let’s face it, love as sung about in most songs, is a fleeting and fragile thing. Where would Country or Pop singers have enough to write about without the heartache brought on by losing a lover. I likely chose romance as my choice of genre because of my smugness in having known such enduring love. True love as experienced by two people of whatever gender is a wonderful thing. Fate, Destiny, my Guardian Angel, call her what you will, has been more than kind to me. She’s always guided me to take the best and most rewarding fork in the road as I meander through these pathways of life. 

   

As for friends, I’ve been so lucky in my life as I’ve always had friends around me that I can depend on. I have friends back in England that I only hear from now and then, and some have been steady for many years. Friends have come and gone in different stages of my life. I have long-time friends who live interstate or up country that I catch up with rarely these days, but they still remain firm friends.

Some cynics say there is no such thing as a platonic friendship between a man and woman, but I personally think this not entirely true. Some of my best friends over the years have been male, and truth be told I have always liked the company of these platonic ones. I like how men’s minds work (well the part that is understandable to a mere female). They have such a different way of looking at life to us females—more uncomplicated I always feel. And they take such pleasure in the simple things—such as absconding to their shed or workroom to potter about for hours doing who knows what. They don’t care if the dishes are left in the sink or if the bed is unmade at three in the afternoon, there’s more important things in life.

Then there’s my super cyber friends—some of whom live in far flung corners of the world and I will never get to meet them face to face. But they are also constant, some having been a guide in helping me through varying parts of my writing career, providing assistance and advice that helped me on the way to becoming better at my craft. I’ve always considered myself a simple story-teller, following my heart rather than my head, but without the advice gained via this wonderful world of the internet where would any of us be today.

Canadian Lakes by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

https://books2read.com/Romancing-the-Klondike

 https://books2read.com/Rushing-the-Klondike

 https://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

Canadian Lakes

 I am a Canadian and all my mystery, historical, romance, and young adult novels are set in Canada. Canada is the second largest country in the world and has about 20% of the world’s freshwater. It also shares the world’s largest body of freshwater-the Great Lakes-with the United States. Lake Superior, Lake Huron, Lake Erie, Lake Ontario, are divided by the border while Lake Michigan is totally in the United States.

Nearly 14% of the world’s lakes over 500 sq km (193.05 sq mi) are within Canada’s borders. The largest lake totally within the country is Great Bear Lake in the Northwest Territories. It is the 4^th largest in North America and the 9^th largest in the world. The name comes from the Chipewyan word satudene which means ‘grizzly bear water people’.

Great Slave Lake, also in the Northwest Territories is the second largest freshwater lake in Canada and the 10^th largest on the Earth. With a depth of 614 metres (2,014 ft) it is the deepest lake in North America. It was named for the Dene, the first nation’s people who were called Slavey by the Cree first nations.

Lake Winnipeg, in Manitoba, is Canada’s third largest freshwater lake and has the largest watershed (the rivers that drain into a lake plus all the land with streams that drain into those rivers) in Canada. Its watershed is about 982,900 square kilometres (379,500 square miles) which is about 40 times its size. This ratio is the biggest of any other large lake in the world. Waters flow into Lake Winnipeg from the provinces of Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Ontario and from the states of North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, and Montana making it the 11^th largest freshwater lake in the world.

Lake Athabasca sits on the northern border of the provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan with 26% in Alberta and 74% in Saskatchewan. It is the fourth largest lake totally in Canada and waters from it flow northward through the Slave and Mackenzie river systems to the Arctic Ocean.

It is estimated that there are about 2 million lakes of various sizes in Canada and they make up about 9% of the country’s mass. This means that 891,163 square kilometres (344,080 sq mi) of Canada’s total area of 9.985 million square kilometres (3.8 million sq mi) is covered by freshwater.

 

Releasing and Promoting a Book by Victoria Chatham

AVAILABLE HERE

A major part of releasing a book is to promote it and then promote it more. I was happy to recently showcase Brides of Banff Springs and the Canadian Historical Brides Collection at Olds Municipal Library. When I contacted the Librarian about a booking, she was excited to offer me a date, which we arranged over the phone. We decided to have a meet and greet in the afternoon for people who might not be able to attend the evening reading and book signing session. This worked out very well as a lovely lady called Catherine came to meet me and told me that her mother had been the head housekeeper at Banff Springs Hotel. It was her job to open it up every spring along with the hotels at Lake Louise and Fairmount. I can't even begin to imagine how big a job that would have been. This lady also met King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (the late Queen's mother) when they visited Canada in 1939 and received a commemorative silver powder compact. I would love to have seen it, but I understood why Catherine wanted to keep it safe at home. Another young lady, who had already read the book, said her first job was in housekeeping at the hotel, and she could easily identify with Tilly, the heroine.

My table for the afternoon session was just inside the main entrance, so it was easy to talk to people as they came and went. Just in case a little extra is needed, a bowl of candies or quality chocolate is a good way to get people talking, and many admired the gift basket. The framed poster listing all the Historical Bride books also drew a lot of attention, with many visitors saying they did not know much of Canada's early history.

Nicole Peers, the Librarian, was not sure of numbers for the evening reading, but as people began to arrive, she quickly found more chairs to seat them. Before I started the reading, I presented Nicole with the gift basket, a thank-you to her and the staff for hosting me.

 

My author tagline is History, Mystery, and Love, so I picked three appropriate passages and read a bit of the history of Banff, the beginning of the mystery concerning the ghost bride and finally, the scene where the hero asks the heroine to marry him. The audience response was encouraging, with still more people wanting to talk afterwards about their experiences with Banff, having lived or worked there or been constant visitors. The funding from the Government of Canada helped make this a fun, exciting evening. Nicole said it was one of the best author evenings the Library had hosted, and I was only too happy to have been a part of it.

The first two images are from the author's collection.

The last two images are courtesy of  Ayesha Clough, Red Barn Books.

Victoria Chatham

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Skunks and aliens

 Readers familiar with my Whistling Pines cozy series know that quirky people and situations are regular plot components. I'm always on the hunt for a new plot or twist, and there's never a shortage of material. With a 2023 plot about arson in the works, I've been trying to keep the whirling ideas from congealing. Yes, my head is a swirling mass of plots, characters, and facts that mesh into a book. My tuba-playing friend and consultant, Brian, calls me billiard ball brain because he feels that the inside of my head must resemble a billiard table after the break, with ideas bouncing off each other like billiard balls until they come to rest in some pattern that becomes a plot.

It's wonderful to have tons of ideas, and a stream of plots coming from friends, readers, and the news. On the other hand, it's infuriating to be drafting a book when the billiard balls come to rest, demanding that I start a book outline and an opening chapter.

That happened today.

I'm about 75% though a first draft of Taxed to Death, a 2023 Pine County mystery, and my attention NEEDS to be on those final few chapters. 

My writing was interrupted when my wife pointed out hundreds of small holes (1" diameter) that had randomly dug in our yard. It was our personal mystery. Who, or what, had excavated the holes? They looked like a random aeration of the turf. There were no footprints. There was no indication of what had been removed. It was stuck in my mind. That new billiard ball started rolling.

I tried to ignore it, but I mentioned it to some friends during lunch and there was consensus that a family of skunks had been digging up grubs (larval June bugs), which are apparently a skunk delicacy.

Finding that solution plausible, I fired off an email to a number of people, hoping to find someone who would volunteer for skunk removal/relocation duty. My fist response was from an old friend who suggested that it was more likely that the holes had been dug by an alien lawn aerator. I replied that having weighed the probabilities (yes, I have taken a couple statistics courses) of skunks vs. aliens, I'd determined that the likelihood of the holes being created by aliens was somewhat more remote than my odds of winning the Powerball. His response was brief, "I can't reply. My aluminum foil hat is interfering with my WiFi reception."

A new billiard ball was in motion; a vision of people wearing foil-wrapped baseball caps to ward off the effects of cosmic rays. I know these ideas will come to rest and weave themselves together with some other craziness that will become a future Whistling Pines plot.

In the meanwhile, I suggest that you read Whistling Artist so that you're familiar with my protagonist Peter Rogers, the recreation director of the Whistling Pines Senior Residence, and the cast of colorful supporting characters from that series.

Hovey, Dean - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.com)