When You Talk to the Animals

By Maureen Bonatch 

Does your pet talk to you? Mine does. Well, at least I think he does. I not only spend much of my day talking to him when I’m home alone, I also occasionally answer for him. I’m not referring to Zoolingualism, or imitating animal sounds (although he does seem to try to occasionally send me mental messages). I mean I act as if he is answering as a person would. Well, a small, furry, person. 

Some part of me thinks I know what he has to say. Unfortunately for Scruff, he can’t really confirm that the responses I provide for him are accurate. Instead he stares silently at me with his big, brown eyes desperately trying to give me a message (or wondering why his Mom is so…odd). 

I can probably safely assume that the majority of the time that message is that he’d like another treat, or that he wants to go outside. But I’ve taken it upon myself to imagine that he has much more to say if he could only convey it in more than pointed stares and huffs (he’s not much of a barker). 

 I’ve found that if I mention this to others who have pets that they often agree that they talk to their pets. I don’t always ask if they answer for them as well. 

I’ve also taken the liberty of providing my tiny dog that has been noted to resemble a stuffed animal with a deep, masculine voice with a little bit of a southern accent. Why? That I can’t answer. I guess he kind of gave me the impression that since he’s a little guy with a lot of attitude who is terrified of almost everything—including the occasional leaf if it touches him—that he’d want to portray a tough image. I also assume he’d never forgive me if I gave him a high, squeaky voice to accompany his fuzzy cuteness that often gets him mistaken for a girl. 

The southern accent? I have no idea. It just came to me as part of his ‘character’. Speaking of characters, mine always come with a pet or animal sidekick. Often I base the character of the animal, and sometimes the name, on animals I know, or have known. 

A few include: 

• Evil Speaks Softly- Mozart (dog) 
• Destiny Calling- Tercet (cat) 
• That Magic Moment- Juniper (cat) 

I’ve taken this relationship a step further with my upcoming paranormal cozy mysteries and provided the ability for my character to communicate with her pet, and that the animal can actually communicate back—magic has it's benefits! I’ll share more about these stories in the coming months. 

 So tell me, do you talk to your pets? If so, do they answer back? 

 P.S.- I’m teaching an online Self-Care Course for Fantasy, Future & Paranormal (FF&P)- Romance Writers in April - Find out more info and sign up right here  

I may not be able to offer you the ability to do magic, but spending more time taking care of ourselves can certainly feel pretty magical.

 

Author Bio: Maureen Bonatch grew up in small town Pennsylvania and her love of the four seasons—hockey, biking, sweat pants and hibernation—keeps her there. While immersed in writing or reading paranormal romance and fantasy, she survives on caffeine, wine, music, and laughter. A feisty Shih Tzu keeps her in line. 

Find Maureen on her website, Facebook & Twitter Be the first to know about Maureen’s book sales and new releases by following her on BookBub, Amazon and/or signing up for her newsletter

Favorite Books about Animals and Pets

Since the theme this month is pets, I’ve looked back at some books that are about pets and working animals.

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell (30 March 1820- 25 April 1878)

As a teenager, Anna Sewell fell and damaged both her ankles. She never fully recovered, and always had difficulty walking. In Black Beauty, her only novel, the title character ‘breaks his knees’ after a fall, perhaps mirroring Anna’s own suffering.

Black Beauty, which raised awareness of the treatment of horses during the 19^th century, has been called ‘the most influential anticruelty novel of all time’. Anna died only a few months after its publication.

The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford (11 May 1918--20 April 1984)

I guess most of us know this story of three pets—a bull terrier, Labrador retriever and Siamese cat—who travel 300 miles through Canada searching for their owners. Who doesn’t love a story of endurance, companionship and battling the odds?

In 1963 the book won two awards: the ALA Aurianne Award and the Book of the Year for Children Award. Two movies have been made thirty years apart. The first in 1963, the second in 1993 as Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey.

All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot (3 October 1916--23 February 1995)

Born James Alfred Wight, Herriot chose his pen name after seeing Scottish goal keeper Jim Herriot play soccer. James, a vet by trade, had always been interested in writing. At the age of 50, prompted by his wife, he began putting pen to paper. His books about life as a British country vet were made into movies and a much-loved TV series starring Christopher Timothy.

In 1979 James received an OBE.

Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog by John Grogan (20 March 1957-- )

John Grogan began his writing career as a police reporter for the Herald-Palladium in the town of St Joseph. During this time, he rode with police and photographed murder victims. But he didn’t find his true calling until he took a job as columnist with The Palm Beach Post. Later he worked as columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer.

Marley and Me spent 76 weeks on the bestseller list, 23 of them at number 1.

It was filmed in 2008. John and his wife were extras in one scene. Although he doesn’t reveal which scene, there are hints in his bio. Watch the movie and see if you can spot him and his wife.

I've only touched the surface of books about animals, and there are many more. So over to you. What is your favorite animal movie or book?

***

A post about pets wouldn't be complete without a pic of my family's dog. Here he is enjoying the sun and surveying his domain.

Janni Nell writes mysteries. Her new paranormal cozy Secrets, Spells & Murder is coming in fall 2017.

Bringing It Back(list) with Jody Wallace

For my entry in the Bringing It Back(list) series, I've been literally bringing some of my backlist...back. After the original publisher went out of business, I decided to republish my Fey Realm series myself. After some re-editing, formatting, and new covers, I'm happy to once again share my fairies, leprechauns, human types, and all their magic and adventures with readers. In fact, the price is now reduced, at only $2.99 a volume instead of the $5 and $6 pricepoints it had with a publisher.

Without further ado...

You can find out more about the Fey Realm series at my website, www.jodywallace.com. I really like how the new covers emphasize the most IMPORTANT part of the books, which is the fact that they have cats in them :).

Here's an excerpt from the second book in the series, 1000 Kisses, that introduces this most vital element...

***

Ani rolled in the tangled sheets until her cheek hit a cool spot on the opposite pillow. There was no place at Court for a half-twin with violent panic attacks and a yen for the Primary. What was she going to do? Ani pondered her options until a bar of orange sunrise splashed her face, waking her from the sleep she thought she’d never find.

The light was so concentrated it pierced her eyelids. She flopped away from it, or tried to. Something weighed down the coverlet, pinning her to the bed.

Ani yanked at the covers. Her sister hadn’t sheet-wedged her in decades, but the sensation of being stuck by tightly wrapped blankets was a familiar one.

“Talista, not funny.”

A hoarse rumble answered right before a multitude of needles pierced her thigh.

Ani screeched and kicked. The weight disappeared. A distinct thump sounded on the floor to her right.

Adrenaline blasted her system as her eyesight adjusted to the half-dark. She scrambled off the bed, groping for the alarm globe on the side table.

“Who’s there?”

She could see no one in her bedchamber, and she didn’t sense Tali through their sibling bond.

Cautiously she crept around the footboard, gripping her alarm globe. The fist-sized charms could wake one person or a castle depending on how one used them.

When she reached the corner, a black cat waited in the center of her damp rug with its tail tucked over its paws.

She looked at the cat. The cat looked at her. Its yellow eyes gleamed. Then it hiked its back leg into the air and began to wash itself.

Oh. Well. Himself.

“Hello, Fey.” Anisette glanced at her door and windows. Undisturbed, keyed to locks she controlled. She chose who could enter. The only other way in was via transportation. “What are you doing here, Master Fey?”

The cat, in the way of cats, didn’t acknowledge her. He started on his tail.

Some Fey cats communicated with fairies. Some didn’t. They appeared and disappeared all over the Realm, cities to deserts. They also traveled to humanspace, possibly through things Tali called gnome holes and possibly by means of their own devising.

Fairies were the dominant primates on the Realm continent, the only civilized land in their world. Fairies outnumbered leprechauns, annishags, yeti, medusas, and other sentient species, with the sentience of gnomes an item of some debate.

Cats were not primates.

***

Thank you for checking out this Bring It Back(list) feature today and be sure to visit us next weekend for more!

Sincerely,

Jody W. & Meankitty
Smart. Snarky. Seductive. And that's just the books.
http://www.jodywallace.com * http://www.meankitty.com

A Day in the Life of a Writer

Just in case you’ve ever wondered what it’s like in the glamorous world of writing, I’m here to spill my secrets.

Today I was awoken by a beeping back-up indicator on a truck outside my window, interrupting a dream in which I’d received a sudden, unexpectedly large check from my publisher (triple digits) and was having an important talk with my agent at a writing conference. Both things seemed like they were about to change my life, and then that damn truck. I’ve had prophetic dreams about rejections before, so I was hoping maybe this check thing would pan out similarly, but alas, no.

So I got up and went into my office, where I do the day job—editing for a global consulting firm. Answered emails, reviewed copy on a couple of layouts, then took a break to have coffee and a breakfast sandwich, after which I updated some project management records, finalized some copy after receiving approval for an ad from a happy client (yay!), and sent the copy for layout.

Then it was time for an hour of therapeutic yoga at my neighborhood studio to try to manage the pain from the pinched nerve I got a year and a half ago from a herniated disc in my neck from hunching over a laptop writing for 20 years. The pain sucks, but the yoga break is always nice.

Back to the “office,” where I reviewed some more layouts, worked on a PowerPoint presentation, and then a “lunch” break to watch my daily episode of X-Files—along with hundreds (dozens?) of other nerds like me going through all nine seasons leading up to the release of the new series in January.

Then more layouts and emails and edits, and finally, it’s time for me to go “home,” which means heading into my bedroom to read some Facebook posts and tweets and answer personal business email before dinner.

After that is when I start writing. I have a standing desk now so I don’t keep messing up my spine, and I keep the standing desk in my bedroom. It keeps the day job and the writing separate, and gets my butt out of the chair for a few hours. (I also have a treadmill under the standing desk, but am I using it? No. I’m standing on it.)

Normally, I write at least 1,000 words each evening, but tonight I remembered I had this blog post due; hence, my boring you with my day. When I’m finished, I have some giveaway prizes I need to box up and address to take to the post office tomorrow before the winners start to suspect that I’m a big, fat liar who just made up this giveaway. Then, hopefully, I’ll finally have time to write. Usually, writing wraps up around 1am, followed by decaf tea and a little snack (animal cookies) while I unwind with some television before bed.

Add in several breaks to feed cats (and clean up cat puke) and pet a demanding 19-year-old calico, and that’s it. That’s my life. Pretty much every day, except that on weekends, I don’t do the day job, so I have longer to write. Strangely, this usually does not amount to significantly more words.

Believe it or not, most of this—except for the neck pain, the cat puke, and the marketing—is actually how I prefer to spend my time. I like creating worlds and characters who have far more active lives than I do. Though I wouldn’t mind traveling more to some of the places I write about.

Some years I do a few conferences (many of my fellow writers are off in New York this week for the annual RWA), but I couldn’t afford any this year, which goes nicely with my social aversion and agoraphobia. Thus, here I am, sharing my oh-so-exciting day with you.

Was it everything you thought it would be?