When it comes to matters of the heart, I honestly wonder if we have any say in it at all. Can we choose who to love or who to care about? Can we convince ourselves that someone is not the one, even if every fiber of our being is screaming that they are? If there is such a thing as fate, and some things are just meant to be, does that mean they’ll be easy? Should ‘fate’ take care of everything and bend time and space, no matter the consequences, to allow two people to be together?

Fate is a general them in all three of my books. Everything that happens in book one, sets up the events in book two and everyone you meet in book two, plays an integral role in book three, even though it is twenty years later. As a writer, forced to interconnect all these events, I am now more aware of them as I see them occur around me. But in real life, there aren’t always happy endings.

While driving home in a panic yesterday, I saw two baby kitties on the side of the road. I was in a hurry because I had to get home and fax a New York hotel a credit card authorization form for a friend at work. Once that was completed (and trust me she should feel really special that I put that over the kitties), I went back to try and get them. There are three; two black and one gray, and they are as big as my hand. I was so close to getting them it was just heartbreaking. My husband took me back up there when the rain slacked a bit, but no luck. So of course, they’re all I can think about.

I’m telling y’all right now, if I ran this country, anyone who hurt kids, animals, or old people would be killed on the spot. If two grown-ass men are fighting and someone gets stabbed or shot, whatever. Shit happens. Let’s have a trial and all that. The person guilty of that crime isn’t necessarily a bad person, they just got in a bad spot. ANYONE who hurts a child, animals, or old people CANNOT be rehabilitated. PERIOD. They prey on weak victims because they are sick in the head and need to dominate something. I would be like, ‘You did what? Booocahoowhhh!’ (That was me kicking them in the head and then shooting them.)
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After two afternoons of crawling around in the pricker bushes, Cameron getting attacked by fire ants, and Myron ripping his tie, I have come to the conclusion that the baby kitty doesn’t like me. This is a very hard fact for me to accept because ALL CATS LIKE ME. I am sad.

Well TRUE NORTH comes out on Saturday. At least I’ve got that going for me. Below are pics of the kitties that still love me.

Gary the Cat

Dilly

Fenway