Lizzy and I are writing a book.  We decided quite spur of the moment to do it.  I was telling her about Sophie, the black and white cat we had years ago.

When Sophie caught a mouse, we would find it on our front door mat.  When we discovered it, she was always right there to accept the credit.  We would thank her and pet her and let her know that we appreciated it.  We lived in the foothills where there were plenty of mice.  We had mouse traps under every cabinet and Sophie…..so,  we were in good shape.

The limb of a large scrub oak tree in the back yard hung over the railing of our deck.  Sophie had several litters while we lived there.  Each time, we watched her teach her kittens how to eat the food she’d caught.  The first time we watched this process, we cringed in horror.  She would climb up in that oak tree in wait for a bird.  When she caught one, she would wound it,  maneuver it onto the deck and hold a paw on it while her kittens skiddishly ripped at the birds entrails.  The bird would flop around  and cry out trying to escape.  Sophie would pounce on it again, hold it and the kittens would feast again.  Gruesome.  She taught those babies how to fend for themselves right in front of our eyes .

So…..we are having a blast letting our imaginations take us in and out of this story line.  We’re spending many happy moments exploring how we want to illustrate it, how many illustrations it will take and what we want the cover to look like.  It’s our own creation; so, we’re the bosses.

It’s possible the book in it’s final form may not be anything like its’ origins.  But hey, it’s our imaginations, right.  Wherever it ends up, we will have loved the getting there.