These Animals Are Killing Me (eBook)

A Year of Ridiculous Interruptions - Courtesy of Pesky Wildlife, Quirky Pets and Two-Legged Mammals

Katrina Morgan (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2016 | 1. Auflage
178 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-68222-898-2 (ISBN)

Infos

Readers are invited to follow a typical, pulled-in-a-hundred-different-directions family through a year of hysterical and true-life interruptions. Their beloved pets create more havoc and chaos than deserved; a daring rescue across an icy pond as the ice cracks and the cold seeps through, harrowing trips to the veterinarian in which the protagonist arrives in worse shape than the animals, a ruined floor, and dead mice offerings. Add in pesky wildlife--a pig who helps hang Christmas lights, a brave mouse who takes up residence under the cat's bowl, coyote howling next to an occupied hot tub, and a skunk who rudely interrupts a romantic interlude, and readers will be laughing and shaking their heads in incredulous disbelief. When main character, Katrina, has finally had enough, she stands with hands on hips and shouts, 'These animals are killing me!' Readers will understand completely. The fast paced incidents will be most recognizable to adults who juggle and multi-task on a daily basis. The universal draw of animals adds a unique dimension. There are triumphs, surprises, failures and disappointments all told with twisted humor. At the end of each episode, small windows of clarity occur, in which the world rights itself momentarily and we remember what is important, what is right, what is good.

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Readers are invited to join a typical busy family for one year of hysterical and true-life interruptions. Their beloved pets create more havoc and chaos than deserved with harrowing trips to the veterinarian, injuries, and quirky personalities of their own. Add in the wildlife who regularly appear (pigs, skunks, muskrats, mice and occasional "e;two-legged"e; animal) and readers will be shaking their heads in incredulous disbelief, and snorting at the outcome. With two or more interconnected stories per month, the author recounts one ridiculous life disruption after another. The stories are presented as calendar dates as though the reader has stumbled upon a journal giving readers a voyeuristic view of someone else's chaotic world. Beginning in September, readers are introduced to the characters: hyper-active, zany Katrina, her quieter, well-centered husband John and their three very different aged children. Independent Deanna is in college, deep thinker Michael is nervously entering middle school, and fearless Spencer is headed off to first grade. The difference in ages and stages creates a constantly changing dynamic. Add in klutzy but loveable dog Bear, conniving Fat Cat Chance, and a myriad of wildlife who saunter in and out of their acreage and you have These Animals Are Killing Me. Readers will turn to page one and plummet unceremoniously into the first day of school and all the stress such a day ensues. The century-old kitchen is a mess; instructions are being barked out, anxieties relieved, lunches packed and the day memorialized with pictures. Despite careful preparation, the morning goes completely off kilter when the youngest child, Spencer, 'moons' Michael's school bus effectively ruining his brother's foray into middle school. Overly protective Katrina then attempts to slyly follow the school bus through two towns to ensure her children arrive at school safely. That she is eventually caught and gently chastised by the bus offers a life lesson as well. All chapters are presented in the same manner as the author moves through a calendar year. The scenarios will be familiar to most busy adults, juggling over-packed calendars: trips to the veterinarian, an ill timed phone call during a doctors appointment carving out time to attend a school event, yelling at slow drivers in a mad dash across town, gearing up for the chaos of Holidays, family vacations, frightening rescues, turning forty, natural disasters and the many other unexpected happenings that can occur in a calendar year. At the end of each episode, the author shares small windows of clarity in which the world rights itself and we see, if even just momentarily, what is important, what is right, what is good. These Animals are Killing Me is a gentle yet fun reminder that our over-stuffed and chaotic days usually have a good deal of humor behind them, if we look hard enough. Woven throughout are two common threads; First, beloved pets, pesky wildlife and even curious animals of the 'two legged' variety, add color and dimension to our lives. Secondly, there is no such thing as a mundane life when we open ourselves to laughter.

Textauszug

September 2nd: Stalking the School Bus

“Oh my God! Stop it!”

I leaned over and yanked his pants up, covering his naked little butt. The need to reprimand warred with the need to laugh, and I bit my tongue. Hard. Spencer, my youngest and overly dramatic child was standing with me on the front porch. We were supposed to be waving goodbye to his older brother, standing as witnesses to his growing up and going to middle school.

It all went terribly wrong.

The day had started as all first days of school start: chaotic, frantic, and nerve-wracking. Michael, anxious about the new school and suddenly being the lowest on the totem pole, had been full of angst. “Do I look alright? I feel like a geek.”

I understood. We’d carefully shopped for the correct clothing and shoes, and bought a cool new book bag along with all the middle school essentials. Still, he was apprehensive. I stopped packing his lunch and paid attention. I took in his appearance, flattened his stubborn cowlick and assured him, “You look great! No worries, I promise.” I gave him a squeeze and went back to shoving the oversized sandwich into a zip-lock bag.” Bear, the dog, and Fat Cat Chance twined between my legs hoping something would drop to the old wooden floor.

I nudged them both aside, and asked the required questions: “Did you get all your supplies? Do you have milk money?”

After he muttered his responses, I grabbed the camera to mark the occasion. “Stand over there by the fireplace so I can take your picture.” I smiled as a good example.

“Moomm, this is stupid.” He groaned even while moving toward the tiny kitchen hearth.

“No, it’s not. You’ll be glad to have these pictures someday.”

Why Moms say such things eludes me. It ranks right up there with “There are starving children in Africa.” Something happens during child birth creating the need to spew these ridiculous statements. We can’t help ourselves.

“No, I won’t.” I heard Michael mutter. I clicked away, acting like I didn’t notice and effectively captured what was surely the first of hundreds of eye rolls aimed in my direction.

“Smile!” I yelled once more, hoping for a better snapshot. Spencer, my youngest, stood behind me making faces at his brother.

The foray into the middle school universe was a huge step toward becoming a young man and Michael was adamant about not being walked to the end of the driveway. “I’m not a baby.”

I nodded and tried not to cry. Spencer and I had stationed ourselves on the old porch instead. It was the best compromise I could give. Bear and Fat Cat Chance nosed their way out the crooked screen door, curious as to why we were on the porch. They sat flanking us hoping something fascinating would take place.

Michael stood at the end of the driveway trying to look grown up and aloof. It came across painfully. My tears threatened as the bus shuddered to a stop and the doors swung open.

I waved and smiled. I admit to being momentarily confused by all the other kids pointing out the bus window and laughing. Spencer had opted to send Michael off in style. The little cretin had dropped his pants and was mooning the school bus, shaking his booty and giggling.

“Oh My God!”

At my exuberant and fairly loud outburst, Fat Cat Chance jumped into the bushes, Bear started barking his fool head off, and Spencer grinned mischievously. Michael sunk low in his bus seat, pretending he had no idea who we were, or how we’d ended up on his porch. The envisioned illustrious start to Michael’s new adventure was not going as planned. There’s nothing quite like a sibling to put you in your place.

But that was yesterday. Today it’s Spencer’s turn for new undertakings. Putting your youngest child onto a bus for the first time may not be as dramatic as it was with the first or even second child, but it still generates anxiety and sentimental ruminations. I know there are plenty of mothers out there who will appreciate the fact I spent forty minutes stalking the school bus up and down country roads until it reached its final destination. I have no problem admitting I may have gotten a bit carried away.

At six, my youngest was eagerly looking forward to his first full day at school. Last year, he rode the bus to kindergarten with his older brother. I didn’t worry as much, even though Michael feigned complete contempt, picking on the younger version of himself mercilessly and never missing an opportunity to shatter any glimmers of confidence, I still knew he’d look after his little brother.

This year, however, with Michael’s move to middle school, Spencer would be on his own. Michael started an hour earlier which required a separate bus schedule. Ever the follower of what Michael does, Spencer announced, “I’ll go to wait for the bus by myself!”

“Nope. Not happenin’ yet, little man. Your turn will come.”

We marched out to the end of the driveway, with me taking more pictures and Spencer making goofy faces and refusing to stand still. I acted as though everything was normal, overly emphasizing the fabulous and fun. “This is great!”

I was worried though. The solitary traveler on the bus situation was enough to make anyone nervous. Complicated, in part, by where we live. Our school district is large, incorporating six small, country towns spread across a 120-mile radius. Spencer wouldn’t only have to ride the bus on his own, but would need to successfully transfer onto a different bus at one of the schools. The second bus would complete his journey to his new elementary building another town away. Although I wanted him to learn the process, and not be dependent on me to get safely to and from school, the process was concerning: What if he didn’t get off the bus like he was supposed to? What if he got on the wrong transfer bus and ended up at the wrong school? Would there really be teachers in place to make sure everyone was taken care of, as they’d promised?

We’d gone over it a million times, driven the route, and I explained to him over and over how he would get off one bus “here” and it would take him to his new school “there.” We practiced and, although he was only six years old, he was already rolling his eyes. He was so damn independent, had no fear and exercised his own mind and twisted sense of humor. I would have probably felt better if he had shown some reluctance. At least then I would know he was paying attention.

The bus shuddered to a stop, the brakes squealing. Spencer grinned, turned around to wave one last time. He crossed the street and boarded the bus. I watched him say hello to his new bus driver, find a seat and happily begin talking to other kids around him. I stood there for a few seconds, waving. As the driver pulled away, I was off like a shot, racing to my car, slamming it into drive and racing to catch up with the bus. I followed it to the first school, keeping my distance so as not to attract attention. I pulled into the parking lot, ready to watch the transfer process. The bus in question didn’t stop in the circle to let the transfer children disembark. Instead she picked up speed and exited the parking lot.

What the hell?

I put my car in drive, jockeyed my way through a crowded bus circle, squeezed by other parents in their cars, tried not to run over any children and followed as closely as possible.

The bus retraced its route, and crossed the highway. I crossed the highway too. She drove slowly, hesitated and turned left. I did the same. She finally stopped at a house a mile or so past where we live. Two kids were huddled together at the end of their driveway, scared they’d been forgotten. Which they had been. If called upon, I could testify as an eyewitness.

Poor driver. It was bad enough she was new to the job, stressed with the responsibility of transporting all those small children, and now she had already made a mistake. To have some lunatic mother following her around taking note of such things made a bad and embarrassing situation worse. But there was nothing to do about it, but continue my reconnaissance mission.

The bus and I crossed the highway again in our second attempt to get these children safely to school. We were partners now. I wasn’t even trying to be stealthy anymore. It was almost nine o’clock; we were late and just knew the transfer was going to be a disaster. The bus to take Spencer to school number two had probably already come and gone. I was congratulating myself on being there for my son.

There was no room for me to pull into the circle at school. It was jammed with buses, all of which appeared to have been late, which may or may not have been a worrisome thing. I wondered how many children were still standing at the ends of driveways, forgotten and secretly relieved they might not have to go to school after all.

I pulled into the post office, situated diagonally from the school. It afforded me an unobstructed view of the bus circle. Parents and teachers were running haphazardly from one bus to another, trying to determine everyone’s name and age, and to which damned school the kids were assigned. I waved to several suspicious postal workers who were looking out the window and probably wondering why I was blocking the entrance to their...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 2.1.2016
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Comic / Humor / Manga
• ISBN-10: 1-68222-898-3 / 1682228983
• ISBN-13: 978-1-68222-898-2 / 9781682228982