Book Blurb Friday #9! AND Pawsitive Pondering: Y is for Yodeling

TGIBBF!  If you are here for Book Blurb Friday, please scroll down. Along the way, I hope you'll enjoy today's A to Z Challenge with Pawsitive Pondering for the letter Y.

Pawsitive Pondering

Y is for Yodeling:

Yodeling is a lot like barking---a special skill not everyone can perform. 

Lucky for you humans, we dogs excel at barking. 

Can you imagine if we yodeled instead? 

We can't. . .but it would be kinda cool if we could, 

wouldn't it?

See you tomorrow for the last day of the A to Z Challenge and the letter Z!

Yodel-ay-ee-oo!

Welcome to Book Blurb Friday! If you're new to this meme, please click on the Book Blurb tab just under the blog header for details. In a nutshell, The goal of this meme is to:

Write a book jacket blurb (150 words or less) so enticing that potential readers would feel compelled to buy the book.

The photo below is our pretend book cover for this week, courtesy of my young 'un, Christina. Below the photo is my book blurb, written to match the photo. I'm looking forward to linking and reading your blurbs!

Highfalutin

Talia, Bree and Andi are best friends with big dreams. After college, Talia becomes a New York chef, Bree sells mansions in Miami, and Andi lands her dream job as a photographer for LA's premier gossip mag, Highfalutin.

When Andi goes missing, Talia and Bree head for LA to begin a no-holds-barred search for their friend. On Andi's laptop they find a file containing fifty photos of the filthy rich and famous misbehaving in ways not meant for public scrutiny. Which one is responsible for Andi's disappearance?

To narrow the search, Talia and Bree create the fictional Sunglass Menagerie Ltd. and pass themselves off as heiresses. While Andi remains missing, her gal pals scheme and schmooze their way into boardrooms, bedrooms, and movie sets, a con that lands them on Hollywood's A-list in search of clues. But designer shade rip-offs won't catch a villainous celebrity. Sometimes, it takes murder.  (149 words)

If you are participating in Book Blurb Friday, please put your blog link into the Mr. Linky widget below so others will be able to find you and read your blurb.  Then scroll down for a look at next week's "book cover" provided by the lovely and talented Becky Povich.








Here is the "book cover" for next week's Book Blurb Friday, courtesy of Becky Povich.

Don't forget to come back tomorrow for the final day of the A to Z Challenge to see what the Furry Wonders have cooked up for the letter Z.

See you tomorrow, buttercup!
Lisa

Clip art courtesy of Webweaver.com.

Pawsitive Pondering: W is for Working Together

After watching local, national, and international news over the last few weeks The Furry Wonders decided "Working Together" is important and something at which humans need a little more practice.

Pawsitive Pondering

W is for Working Together:

Working together to reach a common goal is smart, and here are three reasons why:

1.  It lightens the load.

  2.  Two wagging tails are better than one.

 3.  Everything is more fun if you tackle it with a friend!

Not bad advice from a pair of rescue pups, eh?

See you tomorrow for more Pawsitive Pondering and the letter X. 

See you then-

Lisa

A to Z - Pawsitive Pondering - V is for Victory (of course!)

There are only five days left of April and the A to Z Challenge, and then normal posting resumes. My pets will be unhappy to be out of the spotlight, but a few Pup-Peroni treats should take care of that.

Pawsitive Pondering 

V is for Victory:

Victory doesn't always mean something enormous. There are little victories, too. Like. . .

permission to sleep on the living room chair.  

And. . .

schmoozing an extra treat after dinner. 

The biggest victory is having someone to love.
That one deserves a capital V.

Wishing you dog-like victories today and every day.

Have a great one!
Lisa

Book Blurb Friday #7! AND Pawsitive Pondering: S is for Shedding

Ahh. . .Friday at last. Has it been a long week for you, too?  I'm happy to have the weekend to recharge. I'm also happy that it is Book Blurb Friday!

First, the A to Z Challenge and today's Pawsitive Pondering. Just look at that face. Believe me when I tell you that my Penny girl can put a positive spin on anything. . .even shedding!

Pawsitive Pondering

S is for Shedding:

Don't think of it as shedding. 

Think of it as thousands of furry reminders of how much I love you!

See you tomorrow for another day of the A to Z Challenge, and Pawsitive Pondering for the letter T.  Please scroll down for Book Blurb Friday!

TGIBBF! This is week #7 of Book Blurb Friday, and this week presented a challenge. I had a blurb in mind, but when I sat down to write it I just couldn't keep the darn thing below 150 words. I cut and snipped and cut some more, and finally came in at 149 (but it was way cooler at 200).  Here is this week's "book cover" (thank you to Sioux Roslawski for sharing this great photo) and my blurb to go with it. If you are participating (and I so hope you do) please add your link information to the Mr. Linky widget so other Book Blurb participants can read your blurb.

A Lethal Beauty

Dr. Brenda Valentino is a museum curator and European art expert. When an anonymous benefactor donates a marble sculpture to the museum, Brenda recognizes it as A Lethal Beauty, the priceless work of Gianlorenzo Bernini, the seventeenth century master. 

Brenda’s research of the uncannily pristine sculpture uncovers a trail of death and destruction spanning four centuries. How has the masterpiece remained unscathed? Why do natural disasters follow its path? What horrific event is soon to occur?

Desperate, Brenda enlists the aid of Edward Poe, friend and ex-priest. Together they unwittingly open the door to a labyrinth of evil that began with Bernini himself and has been centuries in the making—a tangled web of sinister dealings, dark promises, and dances with the devil.

Brenda and Edward must determine how to destroy A Lethal Beauty once and for all, or dare to harness the beast that wields its terrible power. (149 words)

Please add your URL to Mr. Linky if you have a blurb to share. Then scroll further for a gander at next week's photo.





Here is next week's "book cover":

Have a great weekend!
Lisa

Microfiction AND Pawsitive Pondering: O for Obedience

The A to Z Challenge has been great fun, and I've been lax in offering thanks to the hosts of this blogging marathon.   If you haven't visited their blogs, please do. You won't be disappointed.

Hosts of the A to Z Challenge (Thank you!):

Arlee Bird's Tossing It Out
Jeffrey Beesler's World of the Scribe
Alex J. Cavanaugh Alex J. Cavanaugh
Jen Daiker's Unedited
Candace Ganger's The Misadventures in Candyland
Karen J Gowen at Coming Down the Mountain
Talli Roland
Stephen Tremp's Breakthrough Blogs

And now, today's Pawsitive Pondering:

Pawsitive Pondering

O is for Obedience:

Be we big or be we small,

our heart's desire is to please you.

Please teach us how!
We'll both be happier if you do.

(Hint: Milk Bones and Pup-Paroni is quite the attention grabber.)

From left to right: Penny and Rigby, our two Lab mix rescues, and then Special Agent McGee at about eight weeks old, learning from his elders how to sit and stay.

Penny and Rigby also taught McGee how to wrestle, and it was amazing to watch how gentle they were, understanding instinctively that he was not only small, but also just a baby.  "Wrestling" consisted of the bigger dogs rolling onto their backs so little McGee could climb on them and learn how to doggy play. McGee is all grown up now and lives with his "mom" (my daughter) in her apartment with Chutsky, another miniature Dachshund rescued last October. When McGee wrestles with Chutsky, he still makes the funny Star Wars "Chewbacca" noises he learned from Rigby.

And now for Succinctly Yours from Grandma's Goulash and today's microfiction stories, both 140 characters or less. Thanks, Grandma, for hosting!

Thomas Edison and Henry Ford.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Henry,” chuckled Tom. 

“When I said ‘bigger  headlights’ I meant on your Model-T, 

not your wife!” (130)

* * * * * * * * * *

By the conversation’s end, 

Henry thought Tom to be especially bright; 

and Tom grasped the concepts that drove Henry to work 

so diligently. (138)

Thank you for dropping by.  I hope you enjoyed your visit.  See you tomorrow for Pawsitive Pondering for the letter "P."

Lisa

Pawsitive Pondering: K is for Kicking Back!

The A to Z Challenge continues to roll. This is fun! Just ask Rigby and Penny.

PAWSITIVE PONDERING

K is for Kicking Back:

Take time to kick back. 

Enjoy the breeze in your ears, 

the sun on your fur, 

and the company of someone you love.  

Play hard and then rest easy!

Good advice from a pair of happy dogs! 

See you tomorrow for more Pawsitive Pondering and the letter L!

Lisa

What Inspires You? I've Got Hairy Bookends!

Not long ago I posted about my writing muses, Wood Spirit Walt and a trio of dragons named Edgar, Allan and Poe.  (Here's the link to that post, if you'd like a look at Walt and his winged cohorts:  http://www.writinginthebuff.net/2010/11/wood-spirit-walt-and-dragons-edgar.html.)

Yesterday my two Lab (okay, Lab-ish) pups curled like breathing bookends on the daybed in my office, and I realized I omitted them in my previous post about muses. How could I forget Penny (black female) and Rigby (yellow male)? These two hairy kids keep me company every day. They mosey over for a belly rub right about the time my brain is deep-freezing on a plot point or my memory faltering on proper syntax. How do they always know the perfect time to offer encouragement?

These faithful pups wait with Zen-like patience for me to abandon the keyboard and scratch their ears or reward their adorable hairiness with rawhide treats.  They also bark to warn me of horrible threats to my safety, such as a leaf falling from a tree in a neighboring county or the miniature Chihuahua peeing on a bush three houses down.

Okay, so admittedly their danger assessment skills are lacking, but Rigby and Penny excel at other things. They imbue my world with an abundance of positive juju, and they love me with unwavering fervor whether I'm putting the finishing touches on a story or wading neck deep in the swamp of a mucky first draft.

And let's face it. When it comes to inspiration, it's hard to beat a wagging tail and wet nose.

Til next time --
Lisa


P.S.  Thank you so much! To everyone participating in my February blog contest.  If you haven't yet entered, please do!  For details on how to enter and what you could win click on this link: "February Blog Contest" or click the contest tab located at the top of this blog.

Furry Friendships

I sat down to post about yesterday's trip to the ER with my youngest daughter (appendicitis scare) and decided I'm still too emotionally spent to turn it into anything besides AARRGGGHHH! So the appendicitis-that-wasn't story will have to wait a few days.

Instead, I'm writing about a topic that never fails to cheer me:  my furry buddies! If you know me or read my blog, you've seen pictures of the animals that share my space.  To make it easy for you, I posted photos of my furry beloveds. Aren't they the coolest hairy kids ever?

Sitting here in my office with my gray kitty, Bailey, in my lap and my black Lab mix, Penny, stretched out at my feet, I considered how lucky I am to have been born with an "I-adore-animals" gene.  I know people who don't care for animals ("Too much hair!" "Eww, slobber!") and I can't understand it.  So dogs and cats shed. . .big hairy deal.  Pull out your vacuum cleaner a little more often.  Slobber? Nothing a little soap and water can't take care of.  Those things are a small price to pay for tail wags and purrs and unconditional love that reduces stress and eases heartache.

How do our dogs know when we need a wet nose pressed against our hand?  How do our cats know when we need a purring body curled up in our lap?  Pets know their humans.  These wonderful creatures read our moods and decipher our emotional needs like furry barometers.  Don't believe me? Ask anyone who has an animal companion and they will tell you the same thing.

What do the furry friendships in your life mean to you? Do you have an animal companion who senses your moods? Who is your furry beloved?


Til next time -
Lisa

Ssssnakes Alive!!

My dogs cornered a copperhead snake last night.  The slithery booger stretched himself out against the edge of our patio and ended up wishing he'd picked a more favorable location to doze.  Rigby and Penny, our Lab mixes (and snake hunters extraordinaire) double teamed the slithery guy.  Rigby stood at his head and Penny at his tail.  They trapped him.

I'd love to say they wrestled him into submission with brute force, or tied him into square knots with their teeth.  Either sounds better than the truth, which is: they barked him to death.

Okay, that isn't literally true. Let's say they barked him into supreme annoyance.   He become perturbed that his nap was disturbed by two furry beasties who wouldn't stop screaming at him.  By the time my hubby investigated the incessant woof-woofing the snake was striking out with mean intent.  At my husband's command the dogs reluctantly left their prey and trotted into the house, leaving my manly man to dispose of the poisonous reptile.  Just like the dogs, he declined to wrestle the snake into submission or tie it into square knots with his teeth.  Drat. That would have been so cool.

The pups received an extra treat for keeping our little world safe from big, poisonous snakes. If that bad boy had managed to sink his fangs into either pooch that would have been the end of them. A youngster in a nearby neighborhood spent weeks in the hospital last year, courtesy of a copperhead, so we don't take such things lightly. 

With a large creek flowing at the back of our property we often see critters in the yard, most often of the toad and turtle variety.  This was the first creature capable of causing real harm. Kudos to my pooches for corralling the thing and alerting us to its presence. They more than earned their beloved rawhide treats.

Snakes beware.  Rigby and Penny live here.  They have a "woof!" and they know how to use it.

Til next time -

Lisa

Doggy Froggy Fun

My dog, Rigby, discovered a dead frog in the back yard. The frog, flatter than Kate Hudson before her boob job, is a mystery.  I cannot determine how it got that way. I understand the "dead", but the "flat" flummoxes me. What leveled the darn thing? Does Big Foot lurk amid my backyard pines?

Anyway, Rigby found the dead frog, picked it up in his mouth and trotted off as if he'd discovered the Hope Diamond. Our other two dogs, Penny and McGee, ran after Rigby because, hey, who wouldn't want to be part owner a flat, gooey, dead thing?

Now, I understand that dogs are wired to be scavengers. God engineered them to have a soft spot for stinky stuff. Knowing this, however, does not mean I am any less disgusted by their doggy behavior as it pertains to decomposing amphibians. Ergo, I followed the doggy train down the hill to the far reaches of the yard, armed with the weapons of my Warrior Princess ancestors: a stick and a pine cone.

Rigby, a smart Lab mix, knew my proximity meant an end to his frolicking. He waited until I neared and took off like the space shuttle to the other side of the yard where he stood wagging his tail in a "come hither" sort of way.

I am not a smart Lab mix, but my human brain functions fine when Manny, my memory vortex, is laying low.  I recognized the "chase me" game Rigby hoped to institute to enhance his doggy pleasure, and I opted out.

"You want to eat a dead frog? Fine, eat it," I told him. "But you better not throw up in the house."

He wagged his tail faster and cocked his head.

"I mean it," I warned. "No half-digested frog parts on my family room floor, mister."

Rigby took my words to heart and did not nosh. Instead, he dropped his plaything to the ground and rolled on it with the same abandon and glee I might display given the opportunity to roll in a pile of twenties totaling a million big ones. When finished, he allowed Penny and McGee the pleasure of frog rolling, too.

By the time I hightailed myself over to the party, the frog no longer resembled a frog, flat or otherwise. I used my stick and pine cone to lift the object of my dogs' affection and toss it over the fence.  May it rest in peace. . . pieces. . . whatever.

All three dogs trotted over to me with with wagging tails and lolling tongues.

"Don't even think about kissing me or rubbing on me," I told them. "Y'all reek."

They wagged some more and ran off to wrestle, unaware that a bath loomed in their near future.

I had to Google "why dogs roll in smelly stuff" because inquiring minds want to know. I found these three theories:

1. To mask their own scent, the better for hunting prey and hiding from predators.

2. To communicate to their doggy pals that they have made an interesting discovery.

3. To impart their own scent to an object as a way of marking territory.

I don't know which theory accounts for my dogs' behavior. Mostly, I think they do it because they think it is fun, and my hairy kids are all about chuckles and wags.

For the record, no errant body parts appeared in my house. I still feel bad for the frog, though, and I'd really like to know what rendered him so flat that if I didn't know better I'd believe he spent three days under a baby grand.

Some things are destined to remain a mystery.

Til next time -
Lisa

Clip art courtesy of dreamstime.com.

Nightmare on Elmeow Street: Curious Cat Wants to Know...

To prove my fondness for canines, I asked my pet to post the photo on the left of me with Penny, one of the pups with whom I coexist. She is a cute little thing, isn't she? A bit kibble-brained but, to be fair, that is part of her considerable charm.

My other canine companion, Rigby, pictured on the right, is...ah, me-ow, I must admit, quite brilliant, in spite of his clownish mugging for the camera.  He is a thinker, and quite the challenging housemate. He is the founder of FETCH (Finding Earth's True Canine Heroes), an organization devoted to the canonization of faithful dogs. He is angling for his own reality show.

There, now, see? I like dogs. I just happen to think felines have more class.  We do not, after all, burp so loudly as to disturb our pets' rest, or create malodorous blasts of air from our nether regions.  Ah, well, I suppose it is simply a matter of one's preference...which segues nicely to my question of the week:

Imagine...you are alone in a secluded house in the woods.  Night arrives and with it a terrible thunder storm. The electricity fails and you descend with a flashlight to the dark cellar to inspect the fuse box. The door locks behind you, and you realize you are not alone. You will be trapped until morning, when a neighboring cat (oh, okay, fine...and a dog, too) hears your wails and runs for help.  With whom would you choose to be trapped and why? Please choose from the following:

a) Hannibal Lecter; b) Freddie Krueger; c) Lizzie Borden; d) The Joker; or e) Lady GaGa.

Consider your answers carefully.  Remember, I'm aiming for world domination here, so I need to know these things.

Meow,
Tabby

Hot Dog!

Congratulate me on my new grand-dog!

The little nipper is an 8-week-old miniature Dachshund. The proud “mama”, my daughter Stephanie, named him McGee after her favorite character from the NCIS television series. She has wanted a pooch of her own for years, and we gifted her with the pup as part of her college graduation present. Though he receives attention from all of us, he somehow knows that Stephanie belongs to him; she is the love of his little doggy life.

While McGee accepts us as his pack, our gray cat, Bailey, refuses to acknowledge his existence at all. Maybe she thinks if she ignores him he’ll go away. Our other cat, Tabby—aka She Who Reigns Supreme—hisses and stands her ground to let McGee know that she is the boss; he believes it and gives her a wide berth. Rigby, our yellow Lab mix, cocks his head and furrows his brow as if to say, “How do you keep winding this thing up?” Penny, our black Lab mix, is the most relaxed with the newcomer and lays down to let him play. Both dogs outweigh the diminutive McGee by 45+ pounds. It is amazing to watch them interact; they seem to know he is a baby who requires their patience.

Housebreaking the little two-and-a-half pound squeak toy is a joint effort. Mostly we try not to step on him. He trots around with the big dogs like he owns the place and I love the Rottweiler attitude in the little hot dog body; when he grows up he may just give Tabby a run for her money in the “bossy” department. I don’t know yet if he is really that self-confident or just too clueless to realize he’s the size of an hors d'œuvre.

McGee was the runt of the litter and since most miniature Dachshunds max out at eleven pounds, we aren’t expecting McGee to amount to much, if you know what I mean. My guess is he will always be small, bright, silly, and—yes, he’s won our hearts—utterly irreplaceable.

Until Stephanie moves into her own apartment we will be a three dog family. I don’t think of it as extra fur balls and muddy feet. Any dog lover will tell you it just means triple the love. Rawr.

Til next time –
Lisa

What's In a Name?

Joe and I walked the dogs at the park last evening after dinner and stopped, as is our routine, at the fenced dog run area so Rigby and Penny could do their doggy frolicking with all their doggy friends. While our hairy kids slobbered and trotted and chased themselves silly, Joe and I enjoyed the company of other dog owners.

Dog owners at the dog park are like parents of children at the playground—they join in conversation with strangers about whom they know nothing, drawn by the universal consistencies of pet ownership/child rearing. And, like parents, we are known by our dogs, rather than ourselves. If any of the dog park denizens spot me at the grocery store they will not, any one of them, say, “Hey, there’s Lisa!” They might, however, be heard to say, “Hey, there’s Rigby’s and Penny’s mom!”

I, similarly, cannot lay a name to even one of those nice people with whom I share conversation while our dogs sniff butts, share slobber, and wrestle in the mud (gosh, it almost sounds X-rated, doesn’t it?). I know which man is Giselle’s dad (she is a German Shorthair Pointer) and which lady belongs to Huey (a 10-year-old Bassett Hound), but their actual names elude me. Somewhere out there is a psychologist who could write an entire thesis on this, but you know, I’d never remember his name.

I’m not sure of the significance of this whole remember-the-dog, forget-the-owner thing. I think it has to do with the carefree air that permeates the dog park; everyone is having a stress free moment, so why ruin it with names and job titles? It may also have something to do with being an old bagger with a bad memory, but this is my blog so it is okay for me to be in denial about that. Acceptable, even.

So I’m not old, I just like to spend time talking and laughing with kindred spirits who understand the joy to be found in a beloved dog’s wagging tail and lolling tongue. After all, as Shakespeare might say, a dog lover by any other name would still carry liver treats in his pocket.

Til next time –
Lisa

Going to the Dogs

Behold -- Rigby and Penny, my hairy kids. We didn’t name them after the Beatles' songs Eleanor Rigby and Penny Lane. Sadly, we weren't that clever. Boy, it hurts to admit that!

Rigby (yellow) and Penny (black) are Lab wannabes that we rescued two years ago. Their actual parentage is Lab and pick-a-random-breed. Very sociable, they love the local "dog park," so designated as it boasts fenced areas where dog owners can let their beloved Fido run sans leash. Of note is how well these various canines interact.

Today our dogs ran with a Weimeraner, a Pit Bull, two Golden Retrievers, a Great Pyrenees and about five other mixed breeds including a sweet little something-or-other that was shaped like a Dachshund with the fur, ears and coloring of a Springer Spaniel (with red bows tied atop her ears she made quite the fashion statement.) They all sniffed butts, licked each other's doggie drool, and played chase. No fights broke out. To dogs, another dog is just a dog. They identify each other by scent, not by their AKC certificate, color of their fur, or the religion of their owner. Rigby and Penny didn’t give a woof that Daisy is a Pit Bull and that Pit Bulls have a bad rep. Daisy was just a fellow pooch, and she was mighty fun to play with.

Seems to me dogs have a pretty great view of things.

I don't mean to imply that I want to exchange handshakes for butt sniffs; but it would be nice if we humans could accept each other the way dogs do and revel in our sameness instead of always looking to our differences. Considering the state of the world these days, maybe going to the dogs isn't such a bad thing.

Woof!
Lisa