For some years, I’ve been fascinated by my barn cats, Mother and Minnie, who live somewhere between the world of the pet and that of a wild creature. Nobody knows where they go, what they do, or how they survive the many dangers and predators waiting for them. I’m working on a children’s book that I haven’t finished or sold yet, but that has been in my mind awhile. I call it the “Secret Dance Of The Barn Cats,” because that is the realm of these mysterious creatures, and I like to fantasize about what they do at night.

I’ll share a paragraph or two. I’m thinking of reading from bits of the story on the library tour, if anyone wants to hear it. I will also be talking about “Rose In A Storm” and my forthcoming book on grieving for pets, “Going Home: FInding peace When Animals Die.”

Excerpt, “Secret Dance of the Barn Cats:”

Chapter Three, first draft.

“The Dance always begins in the same way,

the tough old cat leaping up to the highest stack of hay

in the biggest loft.

He leaps through the moonlight,

streaming into the barn from an old and broken window,

and calls the other barn cats to life. And mystery.

Soon, the other barn cats, beckoned

by a secret signal appear,

jump through the moonbeams

and up from the ground through invisible holes.

They paw at the bats.

They stalk the mice.

And the rats.

Who live in the barn.

They jump through the big spider webs

that stretch through the rafters

and play hide-and-seek

in the bales of hay.

And call on their magic.

And nervous mice fly out of their holes,

and bats flutter across the beams,

and spiders run from their webs and skitter

up and down the big wooden poles,

and ride the soft wind, out through the windows…”