The Pyrenees---Southern France

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Book Blurb Friday

         Lisa Ricard Claro has launched a new meme. She posts a photo, you write a blurb about the book, along with the title.  The luring blurb must be 150 words or less...

         If you want to check it out, go to Lisa's blog.  Perhaps the photo will entice you to write a short, engaging description of a book that has not yet been written. And then perhaps you will love your blurb so much, you will be driven to write a novel to match the blurb. And eventually, perhaps your novel will be snapped up by a major publisher, and you'll become the author of a best-seller and you'll travel all over the country for book signings and you'll then write the next in the "series."  And then perhaps you will give major credit (and maybe a few bucks) to Lisa for starting the ball rolling...

       (And what's interesting is that the photo was taken by Lisa's daughter. I hope and pray her daughter is no older than a teenager---given the way Lisa looks on her blog's photo--otherwise I will have to reach through the blogosphere and scratch Lisa up, out of jealousy.)

        While you're wallowing in that fantasy, read my Book Blurb below:

self portrait by Christina Claro

The Greenest Eye

        Annie stared at her face in the mirror several times a day. And it was only her eyes she focused on.

       The eyes: the window to a person's soul. In Annie's case, her eyes were a tunnel to despair.

       How could she have the greenest eyes--like pure emeralds--and both her parents had brown eyes?  Annie just knew her father was an imposter. This teen angst was tearing her apart. So as her parents lived out their lie, acting as if nothing had ever been wrong, Annie searched for who might be her true father.

        Was it the 93-year old greeter at Walmart? He had sparkling green eyes...

        Was it the guy who cleaned the hippo tanks at the zoo? His eyes were as green as spring grass... 

        Every prospective father she saw, when their green eyes locked, made Annie wonder.  Who's her daddy?


Tuesday, March 1, 2011

A "Made-Me-Feel-Dirty" Weekend

          A couple of weeks ago I spent the day at a puppy mill auction.  Dogs that were no longer wanted by puppy mill breeders--the younger dogs, the ones with one eye or three legs or one testicle--they were all for sale.

         And even though it was unbelievably muddy, that was not why I took a long, hot shower when I got home.

         It was a disgusting experience...And try as I might, I could not wash off the sleaziness and disgust that I had become encased in.

photo by Star Cat

        As I watched dogs, their hopeful eyes pleading, get sold for anywhere from $5 to several hundred dollars, I grew more and more despondent.  Only a few of the bidders were with a rescue group; the rest were Amish (puppy mills is now one of their new ways of making big money), Mennonite, and the rest were folks I considered "typical" for where we were and what we were doing.  And what we were doing was horrible...

       The auction was held on the property of a puppy mill that was retiring its "stock."  Their house was quite nice----spacious-looking (from the outside) and brick. Probably comfortable inside.  The family probably padded around in the evening on carpeting or lovely hardwood floors.

        Dogs that live to breed are not so lucky.  Some of them never get to stand or walk on grass.  Some of them don't even have enough room to turn around.  And almost none of them get the chance to know what a loving home is like...

photo by rglaser

        Unfortunately, most of the property was off-limits. Several large buildings could be seen, wire cages (empty) were stacked inside, but signs clearly said, "Stay away."  Also posted were signs warning us to not take any photos or videos. 

         The auctioneer, when a pregnant dog was being bid on, would call out, "She's showin' a belly, she's got a belly," and the assistants would hold the dog up for everyone to see. 

         By seven that evening, the Golden Retrievers we had bought were loaded in the car. Our rescue friends bid on Bloodhounds and Japanese Chin and various other canines. Altogether, 31 dogs were rescued, which meant no more litters would be born because of those dogs.  Thirty-one out of more than 300. Not very good odds, I'd day...   

photo by tcsails