There's no joy in Mudville tonight

This is a strictly partisan post, so ignore if you want. But I am distraught, heartsick, and befuddled by today's elections. I truly thought the Democrats had a chance--most Democratic candidates had enthusiastic crowds and their own enthusiasm on their side, not to mention concrete proposals for the future. I heard that Allison Grimes drew crowds of hundreds, while Mitch McConnell had trouble getting a hundred to a rally. What went wrong?
I love two definitions of a conservative: someone who plants his feet firmly and proceeds to march backward, and someone who is firm in his convictions, no matter how wrong they are. Democrats on the other hand aren't called progressives for no reason--they're represent progress, forward movement, and--what scares many people--change. It seems so clear to me that there's no alternative to the way the country should have voted (I know, not all polls are in yet but the trend is clear) that I am befuddled.
Do we have an electorate that doesn't want progress? That longs for the "good old days" even though those days will never come again? An electorate that doesn't care about the environment, the economy, a raise in the minimum wage so that all families can make a living? Have they not read about the success of Costco, which pays employees handsomely, vs. Walmart, which pays so poorly that employees are on welfare? Do they not read the statistics about the growth of economy in states that increase the minimum wage opposed to those who don't?
Do they not care about women's rights? Education? Children's health care? The poor?
In a darker mood, I sometimes wonder how much of these election results have to do with the overwhelming and vitriolic condemnation of our president--and that too baffles me. Jobs are up, the stock market is up, the debt is down--looking at what President Obama inherited, he's worked wonders. So when I wonder why the hatred, I am led reluctantly down the path toward racism.
At dinner tonight I sat next to a retired journalist who said he's covered politics for fifty years and never seen the vitriolic hate that is spewed on President Obama--not just as a politician but as a person. And even worse, the hate that is spewed on his wife.
I am afraid for my country, afraid it is becoming a nation consumed by greed and hate and elitism. If the election indeed goes the way it looks, we are now in the hands of the Koch brothers. Two years ago I'd never heard of them.
Another thing is picking away at the back of my brain. I am the last one to believe conspiracy theories, but it's hard to understand that Democrats roused so much enthusiasm in the campaign and then came out so badly in the election. I can't help wonder about voting regulations, bribery, whatever. My daughter-in-law moved in the early summer and filed all the proper places to change her driver's license, voting status, etc. She was denied the right to vote today and told she would have to go back to her previous district--many miles away. A friend of hers said the same thing happened to two other voters she knew. The excuse given? DPS dropped the ball.
The next two years will be a hard test for President Obama, but I have confidence in him. To all the Democratic candidates who campaigned and lost--thanks for fighting the good fight.

Food, dreams, and elections--not necessarily a good mix

Food is always on my mind but I’ve had some interesting dinners lately. My dining adventure pal, Betty, and I ate at Campisi’s the other night and shared the combination platter—more than enough for both of us. We each had a meatball, spaghetti with marinara, lasagna and a ravioli. With wine, dinner cost us a big $11 each—such a deal. The next night I browned an herb-marinated chicken breast from Central Market and then put it covered in the oven with white wine. So moist and good, but it didn’t make really good chicken salad the next day. Saturday I went to an event where the food was “heavy hors d’oevres” and I expected to starve—food was wonderful, plentiful and very imaginative. Still have figured out the filling that was piped into mushroom caps.

Last night neighbors joined me for lamb chili—part of my continuing quest for chili pictures. It was good, as was the apricot/blueberry pie Mary brought. Both were better a day later when they’d mellowed and blended flavors.

I had a bad dream last night—I was working in an office, I think for the executive secretary I worked for in high school—and I was going to school. But I was afflicted with laziness, no desire to do anything but piddle away time on things that didn’t really need doing. I woke in a three a.m. sweat, realizing that’s what I’d been doing all weekend. And in that panicky middle-of-the-night state I envisioned myself not working and growing rapidly older by the day. Needless to say I got up this morning and hit it running. I have this firm conviction that as long as you exercise your mind—as in writing—you won’t slip into senility. And for the physical end of things, I did my yoga routine again.

I will be so glad when it’s Wednesday—so tired of election calls and begging and predictions and wildly varying polls. I voted some time ago by mail, which I think is the best thing since sliced bread. I know how I want the elections to come out, and I care—a lot!—so this is like a time of suspense. And I’m trying to ignore it. I keep remembering though the Truman/Dewey election upset from my childhood.

Back to work. Had a new idea for a novel and want to make notes on it tonight. Tomorrow, ho hum--another run through the chili pictures to see where I stand. I think though I’ve been using the chili book as an excuse to procrastinate. Can’t do much more until the pictures come in.

Where My Titles Come From

Please welcome a special Sunday guest on Judy’s Stew--Marilyn Meredith, the author of over thirty-five published novels, including the award winning Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series. The latest in the series is River Spirits from Mundania Press. Marilyn is a member of three chapters of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and on the board of the Public Safety Writers of America. She lives in the foothills of the Sierra. Visit her at http://fictionforyou.com and her blog at http://marilymeredith.blogspot.com/

This is the first in a blog tour for River Spirits, and Marilyn is offering a prize for the person who comments on the most blog posts during the tour. He or she can either have a character in her next book named after them, or choose an earlier book in the Deputy Tempe Crabtree series—either a paper book or e-book.

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I thought it might be fun if I wrote about how I come up with title for this series. I prefer short titles, two words if possible. And, of course, the two words need to have a relationship to the plot. The hope is that a reader will be enticed by the title and want to read the book.

Often I've found a quote either from a Native American or a snippet from an Indian legend that lends itself to becoming the perfect title. Usually I have the title before I write the book. In fact sometimes the title is what has given me the idea for the book--or at least part of the plot.

Once I had to ask my critique group what they thought ought to be the title of the book I'd been reading to them. They came up with many suggestions, but only one was the perfect title.

Contrary to my usual practice, I'd nearly finished writing River Spirits before I knew what the title should be. As I was writing one of the ending scenes, the appearance of spirits rising from the river gave me the perfect title.

I'm sure other writers may have their own way of picking titles for their books and if so, I hope they'll share in the comments.

River Spirits:

While filming a movie on the Bear Creek Indian Reservation, the film crew trespasses on sacred ground. The female stars receive threats, the Hairy Man finds a missing woman, and someone murders an actor. Deputy Tempe Crabtree has no idea who is guilty. Once again, the elusive and legendary Hairy Man plays an important role in this newest Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery.

Literary fame--such as it is

Tonight I went to the induction ceremony of the current class for the Texas Literary Hall of Fame, a project of the Friends of the Fort Worth Public Library. Inductees were Laura Bush (who did not show up), Deborah Crombie, James Mardis, Larry Swindell, former Speaker of the House Jim Wright, and Lawrence Wright. A couple of them I know personally; the others I know by reputation. It was a sparkling occasion, and I decided one reason I like to go is that I get so many hugs from people I don't see often enough. That aside, the heavy hors d'oevres were great--well, there was that mushroom stuffing we couldn't figure out--and the desserts rich, the wine plentiful. And the program just right--each honoree spoke briefly, and none got carried away at the microphone. Newscaster Rebecca Aguilar ran a tight program that lasted slightly over an hour.
For me, there were lots of special moments--Deborah Crombie's books are favorites of mine, and I've met her enough times to feel free to go up and welcome her to Fort Worth (she apparently got lost on the TCU campus), and I remember working with James Mardis when he allowed TCU Press to use a poem in a short Christmas collection; Larry Swindell was book editor of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and I wrote many a review for him plus considered him a good friend; and I remember, though he probably doesn't, working with Lawrence Wright on the executive committee of the Texas Institute of Letters. He was charming, self-deprecating about his ancestors, and perfectly witty tonight.
As a former inductee, I received a box with a gift--trouble being neither Melinda nor I could figure out how to get into the box. I've put it aside for smarter minds who might come along tomorrow. But it was a nice evening and a gentle reminder that I am a part of the Texas literary scene. Truly, it's a thing I don't always remember, but even if in that scene I'm resting on past literary laurels rather than my contemporary mysteries, I'm grateful. I don't think there's a writer who doesn't have an ego that needs stroking, and I admit freely to being in that category.
Other than that, fall has hit. I woke up cold this morning at six, got up and added an extra blanket  to my nest. Slept until eight. Glad tonight is the fall back night, though I'll probably wake bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at six. It's okay--I have chili and cornbread to make for company.
Lately I've noticed that I go to events that I'm kind of hesitant about and end having a wonderful time. Tonight was one such time. Hope it continues.

A new appreciation of Halloween

I've never been excited about Halloween. I don't decorate my house or yard, and I haven't worn a costume probably since I was twelve or thereabouts. Sure, when my kids were little we went door to door, and when they were older they concocted elaborate horror houses at the front door to scare trick-or-treaters. But to my mind the whole thing has been blown out of proportion.
I suppose living alone for many years has added to my feeling. Once I had an empty nest, I dreaded giving out treats, especially when rather large teenagers came to my door. Finally I just turned off all the lights and worked at my computer in the dark, ignoring the whole thing.
But for the last few years, I have been taking candy and going next door to co-host the trick-or-treating. Usually Jay is home and he and Susan alternate giving out treats but tonight he wasn't home, and I helped give out candy. While I ate the delicious beef stew that Susan always makes, she manned the candy table. Then we switched so she could eat.
We live in one of those inner-city neighborhoods where children are brought in carloads from other neighborhoods--a nice, safe neighborhood with abundant candy. Susan, her father, and I estimate we gave had 500 children (including some adults and some who came back for a second go-round) between 6:00 and 8:15 when we shut it down. Of those, I recognized one family and one other child, a good friend of Jacob's. I used to resent that, particularly when grown women took handfuls of candy. But a friend said to me, "Judy, that may be all they've had to eat today." And it occurred to me that they might also be building a stash for when they couldn't buy their children candy. Then again, they might have been just greedy, but why think the worst of people. Susan bypassed that problem tonight by putting two pieces in each bag herself--it worked wonderfully well, except for one child who was too young to know better and one who was too old not to know better. When I said, "Not cool," he turned and gave me a long look. Maybe he isn't used to being corrected.
Almost every child we gave candy to was polite--often if they forgot the "Thank you," there was a parent nearby to remind them. And some of them simply sparkled with excitement, their eyes dancing. You couldn't help but share their enthusiasm and joy. Some were so little they had to be encouraged where to go, what to say--I think Mom and Dad were the ones getting a kick out of trick or treating, and the kids were simply bewildered. But the atmosphere was one of neighborliness, respect, and friendship. I loved it.
Traffic of course is a nightmare, and I did hear of one unpleasant altercation between two drivers who were trying to pass each other with cars parked on either side of our narrow older streets--apparently there was vulgarity and some animosity about who lived in the neighborhood and who didn't. I hate that. It ruined the atmosphere of the evening.
On the other hand, our municipal ambulance service, MedStar, brought two severely handicapped children, each in an ambulance, to trick or treat on the next street over. Such generosity and caring epitomizes our neighborhood...and our city. And I'm proud of it.
So Happy Hallow's Eve everyone!  There is historical and religious significance to this holiday, which may be why I resent the hoopla a bit. Just as many of us feel about Christmas. But after tonight I look forward to next year.
 

When did research become fun?

A tad late today introducing my Wednesday guest on Thursday--thanks to the charming Radine Nehring for understanding. Radine is the author the "To Die For" mystery series, with the latest being A Fair to Die For. She tells us why she chose the Ozarks and how she picks specific sites to set her mysteries--there's an element of spiritual connection in her selection process. Take it away, Radine!

 

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Oh, yikes, do I remember!

When I was doing research for college and university themes and theses, research could be both tedious and frantic--the skimming of material, making of notes, (this was in the days before Internet) and then the jump to the next book on the stack, hoping to find applicable words of wisdom to be quoted or incorporated.  How I well I remember the process, and how flown are the words and even most of the topics they were applied to.

But now . . . ?

I fell into choosing and doing research at some of Arkansas's amazing locations and events in preparation for novels because of two accidents. 

Accident 1. I fell in love with the magic of the Arkansas Ozarks on a weekend camping trip in 1978.

Accident 2. The choice, in 2001, of Ozark Folk Center State Park as a setting for the second novel in

my "To Die For" mystery series. Husband John and I knew the place well. We had spent delightful long weekends in the park and the surrounding National Forest. I needed a setting for the second novel in my series. Folk Center?  Maybe. Plot ideas began bubbling. So, why not choose a real place, real events, characters modeled after the real people we knew, and add the salt and pepper of a plot true to the location that could be real?

That's what I did. It worked. The Folk Center embraced the novel, Music to Die For, and sold copies in their gift shop. The park hosted a release event and continues to invite me for talks and signing events. They now sell all of my published written work in book form in the gift shop.  (I was at an OFC gift shop signing this past weekend, in fact.)

Bingo. The choosing of sites for my series would fit a pattern, taking readers to popular Arkansas tourist destinations and dumping them gently into plausible crimes taking place at each location.

Though I had known the Folk Center quite well, that wasn't true for other places where I wanted to set mystery novels. Therefore, prior to beginning writing, I needed to do extensive on site research at any chosen location to support the realism I demand for my stories.  

In my non-fiction book, Dear Earth, I wrote that something about the Ozarks caught me, heart and soul, and created a sense of home. It still seems to me as if simply standing on Ozarks soil and rock creates a magic bond that comes into me through the soles of my feet, and I fall in love, once more, with a place.

That sort of thing must happen at each book location I use, or no book is set there. I simply stay long enough to absorb the atmosphere, and so much else. It's like magic. When I visit potential story locations and the magic doesn't happen, I move on to the next place.

Pooh-pooh this if you want, but it's the best way I can describe what happens when I choose an adventure site for Carrie McCrite, Henry King, and their families and friends.

If you join me in one book or another of this on-going adventure, you can write it off as a free vacation for the price of a book!

Places covered after Ozark Folk Center State Park:  Hot Springs National Park; Eureka Springs, AR and the 1886 Crescent Hotel; Buffalo National River; Historic Van Buren, AR and its Civil War history, plus a ride on the real Arkansas and Missouri Passenger Excursion Train; the War Eagle area of Arkansas including Hobbs State Park, War Eagle Mill, and the enormous War Eagle Craft Fair.  And, more to come!  Stay tuned.

Don't forget, I have spent days enjoying each site covered. I can guarantee a good time there.

Radine Trees Nehring, 2011 Inductee: Arkansas Writers' Hall of Fame
http://www.RadinesBooks.com; http://radine.wordpress.com
Sharing the magic of the Arkansas Ozarks in "To Die For" novels
including  A Fair to Die For from Oak Tree Press.

 

Deborah Crombie's Scotland Yard books

I'm almost through reading Deborah Crombie's new To Dwell in Darkness and can hardly put it down. But I've been pondering why that series is probably my all-time favorite, why I get so wrapped up in each book, and why I wait, patiently as possible, for the next one. The books are set in England, and I usually prefer American settings; I'm a cozy reader--and author--and these are definitely not cozy. Trying to figure out the attraction has brought that old question to mind--is it plot or character?
Crombie's works are intricately plotted and constructed. I sometimes wonder about her writing method--surely she must outline. At times I thought in this book she had written herself into a blind alley, but she always saves the situation in a thoroughly believable manner (no spoilers here). There are plenty of twists and turns to keep any reader guessing, and that's probably one reason I'm drawn to read so fast. But, no, I don't think it's plot that draws me.
Crombie, a North Texas native, knows England better than most Englanders. Her books include maps, but since I have never been to London, they mean little to me. But she has managed to capture the language and culture in a way that can only be authentic. At one point, in a news conference, Duncan Kincaid tells reporters, "Further information will be forthcoming after the inquest." To himself, he says it's better than saying, "We don't have a bloody clue, mate!" The clothing is equally convincing--cardigans are not what they are in the U.S., nor are umbrellas and lots of other things. I do feel transported to London--and sometimes Scotland, which I love. If I ever go to London I'm sure now I'll want to see the historic Pancras Station and a lot of other places.
But when I come right down to it, it's the characters who keep me involved in the world Crombie creates. Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James are the main characters--both Scotland Yard. But they are joined by several recurring secondary characters so that the reader feels he or she has entered a small community--their children, their associates, characters added in previous novels. But it is Duncan and Gemma who move the stories forward. They began as tentative lovers--by this, the sixteenth book I think though I may be wrong--they are married and raising his son, her son, and an adopted young girl. They have a houseful of children and dogs and the usual confusion that goes along--such as the litter of starving kittens the children bring home in this one. In previous books, they survived such threats as uncertainty about their relationship, a miscarriage, and the death of some close to them. But Duncan and Gemma are also dedicated to their careers which involved unexpected transfers, long hours, and uncertain schedules. Never assigned these days to the same cases, they manage to share information, concerns, and pure speculation about who did what. The reader thus is part of both their Scotland Yard lives and their personal lives, right down to intimacy with the bedroom door properly closed. They are highly trained and absolutely professional; they are also warm, compassionate, caring human beings.
Those are my scattered thoughts, but as I draw close to the end of To Dwell in Darkness, I'm already aware that it will be a long year until the next book. I assume it's already in draft stage.

Mothers, daughters, and the swirl of life

I just spent a lovely, lazy weekend at the home of my oldest daughter, her husband and their two sons in Austin. We were celebrating the eighth birthday of Ford, the younger son. I decided what I like best about being there is that I can settle myself with computer and book at a table at one end of the great room which is open kitchen and living area. Then I watch the life of the household swirl around me...and swirl it does.
Ford and Sawyer, age ten, are having the most wonderful, old-fashioned summer childhood--even now in late October. They live on a tree-shaded street in the Tarrytown area on a block with lots of children approximately the same age. The boys disappear sometime in the morning, come back occasionally, often with a group in tow, and they all work at computers or the X-box, and then they disappear again. (Sometimes it's a bit of a smelly crew that tramps through the house). Megan is grateful to have them comfortable in her home. Her only restriction: the boys have to be home before dark. Sometimes when there's a bunch of children in the house it gets fairly noisy--I simply take my hearing aids out.
Brandon, my son-in-law, is many things, including computer consultant, bibliophile, and avid football fan. So football games are on the TV all weekend--there go those hearing aids again. Brandon's parents were there for the birthday, and he and his dad spent a lot of time watching football. The rest of us kind of came and went.
Megan's best friend from law school, of whom I'm very fond, was also there--so there was a houseful, and yes, it got very quiet if everybody happened to be gone...and very noisy if everyone was there.
Megan is perhaps my most joyful child. Since childhood, she has been filled with joie de vivre--my parents used to laugh that she was so enthusiastic about everything, even brushing her teeth, that she was in danger of popping them right out of her head. Today Megan delights in her boys, in making pots of soup and chocolate cake (she did both Saturday) and in being generally happy and a bit goofy. She is in some ways my total opposite--she never plans ahead. Sunday night about five she announced everyone was going to the bookstore and when they came home she'd think about dinner--we had wonderful hamburgers but no tomato or lettuce, so some of us put our spinach salad on our burgers--quite good.

Yes, I helped in the kitchen, and I sat around the big marble slab to participate in conversations, but it was most satisfying to sit back and watch while this daughter of mine ordered her household in her own fashion, in a way so different from mine. She does it well, and it's a happy house. Few things are ever a crisis...and that's a good way to live. One I should take a lesson from--you can let life swirl around you and go with the flow.

Right: Megan wearing onion goggles, specially designed to keep you from crying while chopping onions.

Goodbye to Luke

I did one of the hardest things I’ve ever done today. I surrendered my dog, Luke, to the Humane Society of North Texas. I always hated seeing the words “Owner surrender.” Dogs are part of your family, and you just don’t walk away from them, but here I was today, calling belatedly, “I love you, Luke” as he was led away.

I had Luke five weeks to the day. He’s probably a Bernese Mountain Dog/Aussie/Border Collie mix, a year and a half to two years old, up to date on shots and neutered (thanks to me), heartworm positive (we hadn’t gotten to the treatment yet). More important, he was full of love for the people he adored (including me) and he was so happy—played beautifully with Sophie, my border collie/poodle cross. Lived the good life for the last five weeks, before which he was a stray and then in a shelter. An escape artist, he’d get out of the back yard only to come to the front door and say, “Let me in.” He lived up to the Aussie moniker of "Wigglebutt"--his whole rear end would wriggle with happiness at the thought of coming in the house.

I thought today I’d be writing a plea for a new home for Luke—a home, preferably in the country, with no children and few if any guests. Full disclosure: Luke is a biter. It’s indiscriminate and unpredictable, and in five weeks we had five incidents. He seemed to dislike children, young people, and men (except for a few) but we never could tell when he would react with a snarl and a snap. We learned to restrain him but dog trainers advised me to get rid of him. I live with an eight-year-old here every afternoon, and I entertain often so there are people in and out of my house a lot—if for nothing else but happy hour. Mine is the wrong house for Luke.

 Now I find I’m writing a eulogy. My neighbor Jay—who went with me to rescue Luke—took me today to surrender him to the humane society. I know we did the right thing, the morally responsible thing—in fact, as I said when I got out of Jay’s truck, we did the right thing all along. We loved Luke, and we tried. Once before I decided to give him away and then backed off. This time the decision was the only choice I had. But the folks at the humane society said they will euthanize him—they cannot in good conscience place a dog that bites and might be a danger and a liability in a new home (liability was a factor that loomed large in the final discussions of Luke’s fate around here).

I am heartbroken at putting down a young, healthy (heartworms can be cured), vital, energetic and loving dog. Yes, I’ve done it with dogs that were old and/or sick. But Luke enjoyed life so much, had so much love to give and receive.

RIP Luke. Look for me on the Rainbow Bridge someday. I loved you as much as you loved me, and I will miss you. You will always have a corner of my heart.

Solving the Mystery of Cat Training – Agility and More!

Please welcome my Wednesday guest, Sheila Webster Boneham, author of the Animals in Focus mystery series. Drop Dead on Recall, the first book in the series, won the 2013 Maxwell Award for Fiction from the Dog Writers Association of America and was an NBC Petside Best Ten Dog Book of 2012. Sheila is also the author of 17 nonfiction books, six of which have won major awards from the Dog Writers Association of America and the Cat Writers Association. For the past two decades Boneham has been showing her Australian Shepherds and Labrador Retrievers in various canine sports. She has bred top-winning Aussies and founded rescue groups for Aussies and Labs. Boneham holds a doctorate in folklore from Indiana University, an MFA Stonecoast/University of Southern Maine, and resides in Wilmington, N.C. Sheila writes literary nonfiction and poetry as well, and teaches writing. You can keep up with Sheila’s latest news at  www.sheilaboneham.com and www.facebook.com/sheilawrites, learn more about animal-oriented writing—with some of your favorite authors!—at her Writers & Other Animals blog at www.writersandotheranimals.blogspot.com .

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When I mention that Leo, the lead cat in my Animals in Focus mystery series, competes in feline agility in my new book, Catwalk, people respond in any of several predictable ways. Disbelief or astonishment are common. Laughter is not unheard of. A handful show some interest in learning more. And the vast majority respond with some variant of “My cat wouldn’t do that. S/he’s too independent/indifferent/self-serving.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about that last response and I have a theory. I think that many people prefer to think of cats as lovely companions who really care only about themselves. In a society in which many people are distanced from nature except through media and pets, the idea of living with a minimally civilized animal holds some appeal as a final link to wilder nature.

That’s lovely, but in my experience, well-socialized, healthy cats do enjoy learning new things and interacting with people and other animals. I’ve had lots of cats, and every one of them cared about the people and other animals in their family. Our Kitty (seriously, I didn’t name her!) used to lie on my chest and gently pat my cheeks whenever I had a migraine, and Leo loved to cuddle and play with tiny baby puppies when we were breeding Australian Shepherds. And so it goes.

Leo, the protagcat in my Animals in Focus Mystery Series from Midnight Ink, is one of those well-socialized catboys, and he loves Janet MacPhail and her Aussie, Jay, among others. He showed his devotion with a heroic act in Drop Dead on Recall (2012), and he remained an essential character in The Money Bird (2013). In Catwalk—just out—he and his ilk are in the spotlight at cat shows and in the world of feral cats.

Most people know about canine agility by now, since it’s become popular enough over the past twenty years to be televised regularly. Dogs of all sizes, breeds, and mixtures compete successfully. Check out these videos:

·         Yes, that’s a Chihuahua! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WJxCD5KcFo

·         All kinds of dogs, and people, too! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggsIU8rXubk

Well, cats also compete in agility! In the feline version, the handler directs or—more often--lures the cat through tunnels, up and down ramps, over jumps, and through weave poles and other obstacles. Although it's a fairly new sport, it's growing in popularity in the U.S. and Europe. Here’s a dose of cuteness—a kitten beginning to learn about agility on a kitten-sized course--https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nka1BTUikcw .

Obviously, cats can be trained. They’re smart, athletic, and fun-loving animals, so the trick is to figure out what motivates the individual cat. Clicker training (operant conditioning) is a very effective way to teach new behaviors in a positive, reward-based way. Here are some more happily trained cats:

·         Spectacular clicker-trained agility cats - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3dXT301i8k

Like all good training, feline agility provides a wonderful way to strengthen the bond between cats and their owners. It also gives participating cats a fun way to keep their bodies and minds in shape.

To be successful in agility, your cat must

·         have an outgoing, confident personality;

·         be in excellent health and physical condition;

·         love to play.

The sport is open to all kinds of cats, so it might be just the thing for you and your feline athlete. Even if you aren't ready to participate, why not visit a trial when the leaping, tunneling cats come to town and see what it’s all about. You can learn more at http://agility.cfa.org/index.shtml

Want to give it a try? Check out this video on getting started - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhichQHqYZM

In the meantime, why not join Janet and Leo at their first trial? And while you’re in town, come see Jay and the other dogs compete as well—it’s likely to be murder for someone. Catwalk is available wherever books are sold, and autographed copies of all my books can be purchased using this form à http://www.sheilaboneham.blogspot.com/p/autographed-books.html

BLURB:

Catwalk

Animals in Focus Mystery #3

Midnight Ink, 2014

Animal photographer Janet MacPhail is training for her cat Leo’s first feline agility trial when she gets a frantic call about a “cat-napping.” When Janet and her Australian Shepherd Jay set out to track down the missing kitty, they quickly find themselves drawn into the volatile politics of feral cat colonies, endangered wetlands, and a belligerent big-shot land developer. Janet is crazy busy trying to keep up with her mom’s nursing-home romance, her own relationship with Tom and his Labrador Retriever Drake, and upcoming agility trials with Jay and Leo. But when a body is discovered on the canine competition course, it stops the participants dead in their tracks—and sets Janet on the trail of a killer.

"Animal photographer Janet MacPhail's latest adventure will delight dog lovers, cat lovers, and mystery lovers. Janet is excellent company, and although Leo the cat plays a starring role, I'm happy to report that Leo does not eclipse Jay the Aussie, who has become one of my favorite fictional dogs. Indeed, if Jay ever needs to move out of the pages of Sheila Boneham's mysteries and into a nonfiction house, he'll be more than welcome in mine. Five stars for CATWALK!" ~ Susan Conant, author of Brute Strength and other novels in the Holly Winter series of Dog Lover's Mysteries