I didn't know you had a cat

"I didn't know you had a cat."

People said that to us all the time.  But we did.



He wasn't much for parties.  He was more of a hang out on the pillow watching Netflix kind of guy.

If we needed the carpet systematically shredded at every doorway to expose fiendishly sharp nails to bare feet in the night, he had us covered. Likewise if our laptops were somehow devoid of cat hair and the keyboard required some random paw strokes to complete that Powerpoint presentation? Fiki to the rescue.

God forbid you should actually want to read a book.

It was futile to think he would use a scratching post when there was upholstery available in all kinds of expensive fabrics and formats.



When we first brought him home, almost seventeen years ago, he made a beeline for my overstuffed office and disappeared for three days. We found him hidden behind my CFA notebooks, skinny and scared.  Later, it would still sometimes take us hours to locate him, purring in a nest of cables and wires behind the television, or daintily tucked into a basket of bills that was seemingly far to small to hold him.



He was wild for the scent of strawberries.

"Ra-FI-ki!" I would yell into the darkened yard, after he madly made a break through the side door we'd foolishly left cracked open.  All I could hear was the tinkle of the bell around his collar as he headed out for all the adventure freedom could bring. Most of the time, he wound up howling at the door to our bedroom, grumpy and damp, a few hours later.  Once, though, I found a raw notch in his ear from a knock-down, drag-out ear-splitting* battle he had on the lawn at 2 am.

He rocked that notch.



He was wary of strangers, but not unfriendly. Regulars earned a stroll-by and pause for a rub down the back. My niece earned a special gift** placed under her bed in exchange for all the Pounce and bedtime stories when she visited.

He was not fond of closed doors.

But he could be extremely "helpful" with Christmas wrapping.

After years of avoiding my daughter because of her childhood tendency to either grab him and carry him everywhere or run up to him and yell, they finally reached a truce as one of them matured.

He was completely devoted to my son, as they both made the same lifestyle choices of remaining prone in comfortable places with entertaining things to watch.

He tolerated and then taunted Blackjack, sauntering through the kitchen and claiming the couch as soon as the dog retired to the porch, one eye open to watch the cat preening contentedly in his just-vacated spot on the rug. It was almost as though they took shifts being the family pet, and Rafiki had nights.



Night was really our time, his and mine.  He'd walk over my husband's legs to sit on me and watch TV, and then wait patiently as I sat at the kitchen counter and answered email or drafted blog posts after everyone else had gone to bed.

Mostly he was nearby, in companionable silence.  More recently, with the puppy refusing to politely excuse herself from the kitchen like her predecessor, I'd head down the hall and hear the bell following me as he emerged from a chair or under the bed. Teeth brushed, I'd carefully climb under the covers only to find a solid form taking up all the foot room. Inevitably, he would migrate and nestle down right on top of my head, kneading blissfully away with his claws, snarling my hair and purring so loudly I was sure he'd wake the rest of the family.

Then, we would sleep.

Yes, we had a cat.



I wish with all my heart we still did.

Rest in peace, Rafiki

1998-2015

* Literally, he split his ear.
** Dead mouse. He was also an ace lizard tail remover.

Bark! Bark!

Right around the holidays, we started talking about it.

Tentatively at first, because we were still so tender and upset, then more analytically and then, at last, giving ourselves permission to be hopeful, with a fair amount of actual giddiness.

I mean, who were we kidding, right?  We had been expertly trained by our big guy on how to be a dog family, and to let all that work go to waste would be almost criminal.  We couldn't do it.

We decided to get a puppy.

Not a replacement, because there can be no such thing, but someone furry and new and special in their own way.

I began my research.

ME: [Googling on my laptop] What breed is like a Bernese, but is not a Bernese

GOOGLE:  Here are images of Bernese Mountain Dogs and websites full of Bernese Mountain Dogs and breeders of Bernese Mountain Dogs and they all look just like your dog that you still miss so much you can barely stand it.

ME: [incoherent muffled sob]

I stayed away from Google after that. Eventually, I found a breed that sounded amazing.  Huge and hairy and friendly and smart.  There was a breeder just a few hours away who was due to have puppies on my husband's birthday.  I told her all about our loss and our family and she loved the whole thing. It was a sign. We were thrilled.

The puppies were born, and the photos began arriving. Nine adorable balls of fluff rolling around with their exhausted mom.  My daughter was besotted with them, and I was, too.  My husband, a bit concerned about just how huge and how hairy these things would grow up to be, consented to sending in our deposit.  With so many puppies, the breeder was glad to set one aside for us newcomers, even though other families had been waiting for years.  We signed up for puppy class and bought all the puppy things.  We began counting down the weeks until our little one could come home.

My son was appalled. We should be rescuing a dog, he said firmly.  There were all kinds of animals needing good homes. These purebred dogs didn't need us. There's a dog out there who does.

Yes, I agreed, distracted by a fluffy curly tail in my inbox.  But look how sweet they are, honey. These puppies need homes, too.

Would it be rambunctious Miss Red, or shy little Miss Yellow? Identified only by their adorable bow collars, we could only speculate, as the breeder would be matchmaking when we met.  Miss Orange was awfully winsome, too.

Pick up day was set, less than 10 days away.  After all these weeks, the sheer level of email cuteness and anticipation was staggering.

Then came the staggering email of cruelty.

To: Puppy-obsessed family I have been taunting for three months
From:  Nutjob Breeder from Hell
Subject:  No puppy for you*

I just now noticed that all of my puppies are perfect.  I asked my friends who are puppy experts, and they agree. Every single one of them is going to be a champion show dog. Since you are only going to be bringing the puppy home to love it like mad and make it part of your family, and not parade it around a ring on weekends to earn trophies, I have decided you are unsuitable.  If I had a flawed puppy, I would have given it to you.  But I don't. 

True story.

So instead of Miss Red or Miss Orange or Miss Yellow, who are likely piling up accolades and blue ribbons at this very moment, we rescued Miss Juneau, the mutt.

Turns out she is the perfect puppy for us.**

More photos of Juneau can be found daily on Instragram, #juneaudiaries.  

My son was right all along. Mutts rock.

Dusting Off the Nightstand

That woebegone "On my nightstand" section of the sidebar over there has been completely pathetic for about a year now. Stale doesn't even begin to describe it.

Here are some possible explanations:

A)  I didn't cry at the end of The Fault in Our Stars*, and was afraid I might be shunned as a result.  Better to appear slow and possibly too emotionally wrecked to go on.
B)  I no longer have a nightstand.
C)  I read loads of fantastic books, then suddenly became very territorial about the whole thing.
D)  I thought people would prefer knowing how to make brownies and cheese dip, so I blew off the book reports.

The answer is, D), and a little bit of A)**.

But, on this very rainy afternoon, with the comforting drip drip drip of water leaking from flaking ceilings into various metal bowls on the floor, the slamming of the kids' doors as they hole up in their rooms with flickering laptop screens held seven inches from their faces, the odor of wet dog wafting around, and my husband stomping through the house grumbling about why everyone just leaves their shoes all over the place for him to trip on***,  it seems like the perfect time to bury myself in a good, catch up, book post.

Books I've Loved 

(all of these have been added to The Nightstand section of The Shop, with more specific "Why you might love it, too" notes)

The Ocean at the End of the Lane  - Neil Gaiman
Magical, lovely, and delightfully creepy. Gaiman at his best.

The History of Love - Nicole Krauss
I wanted to applaud at the end, and literally gasped at times as the threads came together.  One of the best "interwoven stories" novels I've read.

The Financial Lives of the Poets and Beautiful Ruins - both by Jess Walter
Very different books.  Financial Lives is a terrific black comedy, Beautiful Ruins an homage to the power of place and how art tells stories.  Loved them both.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry - Rachel Joyce

Hands down the most endearing book I read all year.  You won't forget it.

The Light Between Oceans - M.L. Stedman
A baby washes up on the rocks of a lighthouse isle.  Can there be any harm in keeping her? Why, yes.

The Snow Child - Eowyn Ivey
A lonely couple in the wilderness of a century ago seems to will a child out of the storm.  Is she real?

The Dog Stars - Peter Heller
Like The Road, but with a dog and an airplane.  And bizarre neighbors.

Amazing on Audible

Heft - Liz Moore
One of the most unlikely protagonists ever, Arthur is housebound, obese, painfully shy, and in dire need of connection to the human race.  So of course, there's a teenager and a temp. Unforgettable. Perfectly written and read.  Listen to it now!

The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker
A gorgeous, unexpected love story. I could not stop listening to this tale of the struggle of two mythical beings who both emigrate, unwillingly, to NYC.

What Alice Forgot - Liane Moriarty
By turns hilarious and deeply sad,  this is a story of a woman who wakes up to discover she can't remember the past 10 years of her life.  The bad news is, most people seem to really dislike her.

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock - Matthew Quick
A gripping, moving and oddly charming tale of a teen bent on self-destructing before the day is over.  Great YA fiction that doesn't involve archery of any kind.

Where'd You Go, Bernadette? - Maria Semple
Laugh out loud funny, skewering everything in its sight (and there's a LOT to skewer) as a daughter hunts for her AWOL mom through found emails, receipts and other scraps of her life.

The 5th Wave - Rick Yancy
Like The Passage, but with really evil Aliens instead of Vampire Zombies.  Thrilling indeed.

11/22/63 - Stephen King
Enthralling from the get-go, with the premise of traveling through time to stop Kennedy's assassination. Oddly, that's the least of what happens.

Me Before You - Jojo Moyes
All the tears I didn't shed for Hazel fell out of me with this one. Formulaic all the way, but I didn't care.

NOS4A2 - Joe Hill
When the devil is riding around with personalized plates,  kidnapping kids to steal their souls and trap them in Christmasland, you know bad things are bound to follow.  Highly entertaining, with great characters and plot twists.

Worth Picking Up, But Not Quite As Good as The Other Ones
(any why I dinged them a bit)

Life after Life (imaginative writing in a very creative form, but a little hard to follow)

The Goldfinch (great characters, but way too long, and not as "weighty" as it wants to be)

Claire of the Sea Life (truly lyrical, but a little thin in the end)

Someone (I liked The Golem and the Jinni much better, and the books reminded me of each other)

The Fault in Our Stars (I loved it at first, but was ambivalent mid-way through)
The Dinner (truly creepy, but cold)

Books Lots of Other People Liked But I Didn't
  (and why you can skip these, IMHO)

The Orphan Master's Son (an indulgent slog with a few moments of brilliance.  Mostly in the beginning.)
Magnificence (It's bad when the house full of taxidermy is the most exciting character)

Arcadia (The best part was the groovy cover)

Swamplandia! (Maybe I'm just not the abandoned alligator park type?)

Wild (enough with your toes, Cheryl!)

How I Live Now (Ends with mass slaughter in a barnyard, then a convenient flight back to NY. Right.)

Last Summer of the Camperdowns (One of those annoying books where nobody behaves logically, so of course things work out badly)
The Marriage Plot (Hated everyone in it)

Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls (Dreary)

The Interestings (Not)

What's On The Nightstand Now

The slate for the 2014 Tournament of Books has been announced, and I've loaded up on a few of the contenders.  I'm liking How To Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia at the moment, and can't wait to start these next few:

The Signature of All Things 

A Tale for the Time Being

The Luminaries

How about you?  Read any great books lately? Or, I should just stick with the brownies and do this again when it rains in LA next year...

* My daughter, on the other hand, wept buckets.
** I'm actually 100% sure people care more about the brownies and cheese dip.  And, for the record, I did get choked up during lots of these other books, so I'm not completely heartless.  Maybe I'll bawl when the movie comes out.
*** Guilty.