Musings of a Bookish Kitty: May 2013

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Cat Thursday: Let Me Have Some!

Welcome to the weekly meme hosted by The True Book Addict that celebrates cats; their foibles and humorousness and the joy they bring. You can join in by posting a favorite LOL cat pic you made or came across, cat art or share with us pics of your own felines, then post your link up at The True Book Addict.

© 2013, Wendy Runyon of Musings of a Bookish Kitty. All Rights Reserved. If you're reading this on a site other than Musings of a Bookish Kitty or Wendy's feed, be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Bookish Thoughts: The Missing File by D.A. Kishani

The Missing File by D.A. Mishani
Harper, 2013
Crime Fiction; 304 pgs

From the Publisher:

Police detective Avraham Avraham knows that when a crime is committed in his quiet suburban Tel Aviv, there is little need for a complex investigation. There are no serial killers, kidnappings, or rapes here. It’s usually the neighbor, the uncle, the father. The explanation, as he has learned, is always the simplest answer.

But his theory is challenged when a sixteen-year-old boy named Ofer Sharabi disappears without a trace while on his way to school one morning. Suddenly Avraham’s ordered world is knocked off its well-oiled axis and his life consumed by perplexity.

The more he finds out about the boy and his circumstances, the further out of reach the truth seems to become. Avraham’s best lead is Ofer’s older neighbor and schoolteacher, Zeev Avni. He has information that sheds new light on the case–and makes him a likely suspect. But will the neighbor’s strange story save the investigation before it’s too late?

I have mixed feelings about D.A. Mishani’s The Missing File. There was much to like about it, from the way the characters progressed throughout the novel to the descriptions of daily life and culture in a Tel Aviv suburb.

Avraham is an unusual protagonist for a mystery novel. He’s rather ordinary. He comes across as a little burnt out, and it’s clear his head isn’t completely in the investigation of the missing boy. Although he is in charge of the investigation, he doesn’t really take much initiative—the events and mystery sort of unfold around him rather than his pushing them along. Something he admits himself at one point in the novel. And yet, it’s clear Avraham doesn’t want to let go of the investigation. It weighs heavily on him. He fumbles his way through it, and he knows he isn’t giving the case his best. This works for and against the novel, I think. On the one hand it makes the story all the more interesting in that I wanted to see how it would all play out. On the other, it left me feeling a bit detached from the character. The author never really gets into why Avraham struggles so much with this particular case, which I’m sure played a part in my feelings about him. Perhaps future books in the series will offer more insight into where Avraham is coming from. I hope so, anyway.

The more intriguing character in the book is Zeev Avni, a high school teacher and aspiring author. I liked how the author used his character to tell part of the story. It added an interesting dynamic, especially given the twist with his character. His actions left me scratching my head more than once—in a good way.

The characters, particularly Avraham and Zeev, are really what make this book what it is. There is the mystery of the missing boy, of course, but there were moments it felt like the secondary story even as everything that happened was tied to the investigation of his disappearance. Like Avraham and Zeev, Ofer is a bit of an enigma. Avraham struggles to understand who Ofer was and what may have happened to him. He never feels like he’s gotten a complete picture.

While I liked much about the book, I felt dissatisfied with the ending. Maybe it will carry over into the next in the series, but it still seemed rather abrupt, especially with the final twist at the very end. Overall, The Missing File is the type of mystery that would be a good book club pick. There’s much in it that lends itself to discussion.

Rating:

(Good)

You can learn more about D.A. Mishani and his book on the author's Facebook page.

Source: I received a copy of this book from the publisher via Edelweiss.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Where is Your Bookmark? (05/28/2013)

Mouse is over two years old and only just had her first visit to a zoo this past weekend. It's a little zoo, about 40 miles away from where we live. It's well known for its monkeys. No matter how often her dad and I tried to explain what an anteater was, she insisted the anteaters were elephants (no elephants at this particular zoo), and she was very disappointed that she didn't get to see a hippopotamus. She did like watching the various kinds of monkeys swing from vine to vine, however. Her favorite though was riding the carousel. She was not too happy when it came time to get off.

We also spent some time at the park this weekend, enjoying the pleasant weather--not too hot and not too cold. Memorial Day sees the start of the water fountain play area at the park, and Mouse took full advantage. We didn't take part in any of the city's Memorial Day festivities in honor of fallen soldiers, but our hearts were with them and the families and friends of those who have lost loved ones. Memorial Day is always a difficult one for me now, having lost my father in recent years. He'd been a veteran. And while he didn't die in battle, he had left a part of himself behind just as many who have served their countries do. Memorial Day is just one day, but, really, every day is a day to celebrate and honor those in the armed forces.

I managed to squeeze in a little reading this weekend, although not much. This past week was quite busy at work. I was on the interview panel, interviewing perspective employees, and this is one of our busiest times of year; so I have had plenty of work to keep me occupied.

I have fallen behind in my review writing again. I used to be good about keeping up, needing to write my thoughts about a book right after I finish it as a way to decompress and debrief. Now it seems I let them pile up. I am not sure that's the best idea.

I most recently read the follow up to Jamie Quaid's Boyfriend From Hell with the second book in her Saturn's Daughter series, Damn Him to Hell. I am still trying to decide what to read next. I was toying with the idea of reading World War Z by Max Brooks. Sarah Jio's Violet's of March is calling to me though as is Richard Kramer's These Things Happen. But Chris Bohjalian's Trans-Sister Radio is looking really good right about now too. Choices, choices . . .

What are you reading right now?

Every Tuesday Diane from Bibliophile By the Sea hosts

First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros, where

participants share the first paragraph (or a few) of a

book they are reading or thinking about reading soon.

I recently read Laura Lippman's And When She Was Good. What do you think of the introduction? Would you keep reading?

SUBURBAN MADAM DEAD IN APPARENT SUICIDE

The headline catches Heloise's eye as she waits in the always-long line at the Starbucks closest to her son's middle school. Of course, a headline is supposed to call attention to itself. That's its job. Yet these letters are unusually huge, hectoring even, in a typeface suitable for a declaration of war or an invasion by aliens. It's tack, tarted up, as much of a strumpet as the woman whose death it's trumpeting.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Bookish Thoughts: Never Tell by Alafair Burke

Never Tell by Alafair Burke

Harper, 2012

Crime Fiction; 368 pgs

When sixteen year old Julia Whitmore's body is discovered in her bathtub, it seems like a clear case of suicide. Emergency personnel, the coroner, and even the detectives agree. Julia's mother disagrees, however. She and her husband use their wealth and connections to pull every string possible to ensure their daughter's death is investigated as a homicide. Detectives Ellie Hatcher and J.J. Rogan soon discover that one secret can lead to another. The investigation takes them into the homes of the wealthy elite to the streets and homeless shelters as they try and piece the puzzle together of why a girl like Julia Whitmore might take her own life--or why someone would take it for her.

Never Tell by Alafair Burke is the fourth book in the Detective Ellie Hatcher series, but it is my first book by the author. Like most mysteries in a series, this book stands well on its own. Although, there is reference to past character history that definitely is worth going back to explore further. I liked Never Tell enough to want to do just that.

I thoroughly enjoyed Never Tell, and the way the author brought together several different story arcs. There were quite a few twists and turns, all of which seemed to come naturally as the story progressed. And there was so much to this novel! The author touches on a variety of issues including sexual abuse, prescription drug abuse among youth, marital discord, transgender issues, homelessness, suicide, and disparity between classes, among other things. What I especially liked was the way each of Burke's characters were drawn--as one of the characters described, they were both black and white. Not just gray or black or white. It's what makes this book all the more interesting.

Ellie's own story is one that I wish I knew more about (and why I want to read previous books in the series). This case was particularly hard for her because of her own past. Her father's death had been shrouded in mystery for so long. While she denied it affected her current investigation, it was obvious it weighed on her throughout. The reader is also let in on Ellie's personal life in terms of her relationship with Max Donovan, an Assistant District Attorney. It presents a more complete picture of Ellie, with her tough attitude and fierce dedication to her job.

I had been curious about trying this author's work for quite a while now and am glad I finally gave her a try. Never Tell was everything I hoped it would be--suspenseful and entertaining as well as thought provoking.

Rating:

(Very Good)

To learn more about Alafair Burke and her books, please visit the author's website. You can also learn more about the author by visiting her Facebook page, and Twitter account.

I hope you will check out what others had to say about Never Tell on the TLC Book Tours route!

Many thanks to the TLC Book Tours for the opportunity to be a part of this book tour. I read an e-copy version of this book which I purchased for my own reading pleasure.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Where is Your Bookmark?

It is only Wednesday, but already the week has taken its toll on me. Monday was an especially difficult day. The kind of day I can't write about here. The kind of day where I rush home to be with my daughter and hold her close, never wanting to let go. Yesterday was better.

The weekend was nice though. We had Mouse's soccer class on Saturday. It was the second to last class, and I am kind of glad for that. Still, it has been fun. It is a parent/child class, and my husband and I take turns going through the exercises with Mouse. Mouse's attention wasn't quite on the game this past Saturday. She was more interested in following around her friend, another girl in the class. They are quite a pair! During all the goofing off and not paying attention, I was quite surprised then when Mouse stepped forward when the coach asked who wanted to go first and dribble the ball to a designated spot where the child would then kick the ball into the goal. My kid can follow directions when she wants to. Being the two year old she is, Mouse was back to wandering off and chasing after her friend again directly after.

Sundays have become our quiet family days. We do not do much, but they can be fun. I taught Mouse how to play hide and seek recently and that's become one of her favorite games. Her idea of hiding is to curl up in a ball in a corner on the floor--and as soon as you start looking for her, she pops up and says, "Here I am!" When it's my turn to hide, she makes a point of telling me where to hide, will make sure I'm there, and then will proceed to look in all the same places I made a show of looking for her. "Not under the table." "Not under the blanket." "I found you!" It's moments like these that I treasure.

Getting back to the subject--or at least where I intended to go when I first started writing this post--I am no longer going home for lunch during the week (bye, bye audio book time) and instead am camping out in an empty office where I can read uninterrupted for an hour each day. I am enjoying having this precious reading time back again, but confess I do miss going home for that short time too. I may start going home at lunch time once a week at least, depending. We'll see. I used to be such a workaholic and would work through my lunches, full speed ahead. Now I not only want the time away, I need it.

I took advantage of my extra reading time to read Laura Lippman's And When She Was Good. I am still processing my thoughts on this one, but I did enjoy it. Laura Lippman is an author I've read before although not much of. I can see why so many people love her books. Earlier this week, I started reading Menna van Praag's The House at the End of Hope Street, a book I have had my eye on for awhile now. I'm quite smitten with it so far.

What are you reading right now?

Every Tuesday Diane from Bibliophile By the Sea hosts

First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros, where

participants share the first paragraph (or a few) of a

book they are reading or thinking about reading soon.

The house has stood at the end of Hope Street for nearly two hundred years. It's larger than all others, with turrets and chimneys rising into the sky. The front garden grows wild, the long grasses scattered with cowslips, reaching toward the low-hanging leaves of the willow trees. At night the house looks like a Victorian orphanage housing a hundred despairing souls, but when the clouds part and it is lit by moonlight, the house appears to be enchanted. As if Rapunzel lives in the tower and a hundred Sleeping Beauties lie in the beds.

It was the description of this book, The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna van Praag, that first sold me on it: "Past residents have included Virginia Woolf and Dorothy Parker, who, after receiving the assistance they needed, hung around to help newcomers—literally, in talking portraits on the wall . . ." I am about a half of the way through this charming book right now. This is one of those books that reminds me to slow down and savor each paragraph--just as I knew it would after reading the first paragraph.

Would you continue reading?

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Bookish Thoughts: The Water Witch by Juliet Dark

The Water Witch by Juliet Dark

Ballantine Books, 2013

Fantasy; 352 pgs

I wish I had sat down to write this review earlier. It has been a few weeks since I read the book. I finished it just before all of my attention was taken by Riley's last days, and so reviewing this book, much less any other book, went down a few notches on my list of priorities. As a result, my memory is a bit fuzzy. What I do remember . . .

From the Publisher:

[. . .] Callie McFay, a professor of gothic literature, has at last restored a semblance of calm to her rambling Victorian house. But in the nearby thicket of the honeysuckle forest, and in the currents of the rushing Undine stream, more trouble is stirring. . . .

The enchanted town of Fairwick’s dazzling mix of mythical creatures has come under siege from the Grove: a sinister group of witches determined to banish the fey back to their ancestral land. With factions turning on one another, all are cruelly forced to take sides. Callie’s grandmother, a prominent Grove member, demands her granddaughter’s compliance, but half-witch/half-fey Callie can hardly betray her friends and colleagues at the college. To stave off disaster, Callie enlists Duncan Laird, an alluring seductive academic who cultivates her vast magical potential, but to what end? Deeply conflicted, Callie struggles to save her beloved Fairwick, dangerously pushing her extraordinary powers to the limit—risking all, even the needs of her own passionate heart.

I fell in love with Juliet Dark's writing, characters and their world in The Demon Lover. The Water Witch is the second book of the Fairwick Chronicles and it is just as good as the first. I was quickly swept back into Callie's life in Fairwick, enchanted by the world and people Dark has created.

Carol Goodman writing as Juliet Dark yet again shows her great writing chops. She has a way with words in spinning a tale and in creating a world that is so full and rich in my mind's eye. This particular book had less of the Gothic feel that the first book had, but it was no less atmospheric. Fairwick is full of charm and mystery, darkness and light. Oh, how I would love to explore the college town and the woods behind Callie's house! The author weaves mythology and folklore into her story, which only adds to the allure.

There is much more action and less romance in The Water Witch than was in The Demon Lover. As a result, this book seemed to move a bit faster pace wise. The characters were more fleshed out, and I enjoyed getting to know them better. Especially Callie. She's more fully coming into her own, learning where she came from, what powers she has and just how to use them.

I was not happy to see this book come to an end if only because the next book in the series isn't waiting in the wings for me to read it.

Rating:

(Very Good +)

To learn more about Carol Goodman/Juliet Dark and her books, please visit the author's website.

Source: I received an e-copy of this book for review from the publisher via NetGalley.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Cat Thursday: Big Cat Meets Mini Cat

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Bookish Thoughts: A Murder at Rosamund's Gate by Susanna Calkins

A Murder at Rosamund's Gate by Susanna Calkins

Minotaur Books, 2013

Crime Fiction; 352 pgs

I am unable to resist a historical mystery, and when looking over upcoming books for a meme earlier this year, I added this title to it without a second thought. Coming across it on NetGalley seemed too good to be true, so I put in my request.

From the Publisher:

In Susanna Calkins's atmospheric debut novel, a chambermaid must uncover a murderer in seventeenth-century plague-ridden London.

For Lucy Campion, a seventeenth-century English chambermaid serving in the household of the local magistrate, life is an endless repetition of polishing pewter, emptying chamber pots, and dealing with other household chores until a fellow servant is ruthlessly killed, and someone she loves is wrongly arrested for the crime. In a time where the accused are presumed guilty until proven innocent, lawyers aren't permitted to defend their clients, and--if the plague doesn't kill them first--public executions draw a large crowd of spectators, Lucy knows she may never see this person alive again. Unless, that is, she can identify the true murderer.

Determined to do just that, Lucy finds herself venturing out of her expected station and into raucous printers' shops, secretive gypsy camps, the foul streets of London, and even the bowels of Newgate prison on a trail that might lead her straight into the arms of the killer.

In her debut novel, Susanna Calkins seamlessly blends historical detail, romance, and mystery into a moving and highly entertaining tale.

There was something very familiar about this novel as I read. I told my husband a couple times it seemed like I'd read it before, although I knew that could not be true. The book has just been released this year. Even so, I enjoyed the novel quite a bit, particularly the historical detail the author, Susanna Calkins, put into the story.

The time period the novel is set in is a perfect source for conflict--so much is going on. It was a time of great change, both political and religious. Not to mention one of great tragedy with the great plague and a fire that devastated the city. Add to that the fictional crime, murder. The author does a good job of creating a story around these events, although it did feel like the murder itself was forgotten for awhile there. While understandable given the circumstances the characters faced, it made me wonder what genre I was reading.

It didn't hurt my overall enjoyment of the novel, however. I do enjoy a good historical novel regardless. And Lucy Campion was a charming character to spend time with. I loved how selfless and forward thinking she was. She is a character I can get behind and admire.

As much as I liked Lucy, I was even more fond of Cook, and quite enjoyed the time I got to spend with her. She seemed level headed and quite caring. The Magistrate was another favorite character of mine. Although I didn't agree with him on every point, he seemed like a fair and thoughtful man.

I can't imagine what it must have been like to be a woman in that time period. The book is set in 1665, a time when the separation of classes was quite severe and women were not given much credit for their brains. I was particularly drawn to the conflict between the Church and the Quakers and the evolving shift of a country from Catholicism to Anglican. The author did a good job of capturing the mood and tone of the time period.

The murder mystery itself was intriguing, and the author did a good job of keeping this reader guessing! The climax was quite intense. There is romance mixed in as well, for those who like more spark in there mysteries. A Murder at Rosamund's Gate is a great start to a promising new series, and I look forward to seeing what Susanna Calkins's brings us next.

Rating:

(Good +)

You can learn more about Susanna Calkins and her book on the author's website.

Source: E-copy provided by publisher through NetGalley.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Where is Your Bookmark?

Many thanks to everyone for their prayers and kind words and thoughts these past couple of weeks. As many of you know, I had to say goodbye to my dog, Riley. I picked up his remains this past Friday. The poor lady at the animal hospital was almost in tears when I told her why I was there--it set me off crying again. Everyone at the specialization hopsital was so kind to me and Riley right from the start. You can tell the people who work there love their jobs and believe in what they do. My husband and I are talking about spreading his ashes in our backyard. I'm not sure when that will happen, but that's okay. There's no rush.

Meanwhile, the cats are being spoiled and enjoying the extra attention. Anya, my younger cat, sticks close to my side when I'm home. Parker has been mewing more for attention in the evenings than usual. And Mouse, well, she's been asking the inevitable questions.

This weekend was easier than last, emotionally. We had Mouse's soccer practice Saturday morning and the weather was so warm that afternoon we broke out the pool. Mouse still loves playing in the water. She practically jumped into her bathing suit, unable to contain her excitement. Sunday was Mother's Day and my husband and Mouse let me sleep in. They treated me to lunch out and then home again for some more pool time. Anjin made me a special dinner to cap off the day. It was very nice.

I haven't felt much like doing anything blog related, much less write reviews. I felt guilty cracking open a book the day after Riley died, afraid if I stopped thinking of him I was being disloyal. Obviously that was completely irrational thinking. I'm past that. I have kept to the lighter reads mostly though. I haven't listened to Wally Lamb's The Hour I First Believed since I last mentioned it here. I recently finished reading A Conspiracy of Alchemists by Liesel Schwarz and Never Tell by Alafair Burke. One a steampunk/paranormal romance novel and the other a mystery. I had planned to start The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna van Praag, but I thought I'd take a detour and slip in another escapist urban fantasy type read, Jamie Quaid's Boyfriend from Hell first. I'm loving the little kitten who Tina has befriended in the book.

What are you reading right now?

Every Tuesday Diane from Bibliophile By the Sea hosts

First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros, where

participants share the first paragraph (or a few) of a

book they are reading or thinking about reading soon.

Over the door, the tin scales of Lady Justice dipped ominously to the wrong side as Andre Legrande strolled into Bill's Biker Bar and Grill. The boss had been up to no good again, and our miniature Lady Disaproved.

Personally, I thought the dipping scale meant the little statue knew Andre was a fraud, but I was keeping my head down and my mouth shut these days. Rather than feed my boss's arrogance by admiring his assets, I propped my corrective boots on the stool rung and leaned over my tally sheet, pushing my cheap, black framed reading glasses up my nose and letting my overlong bangs hide my face.

The weird anomalies--like moving statues--that had begun appearing in the Zone after the first chemical spill ten years ago now seemed an everyday part of my life. I'd taken a job in this South Baltimore neighborhood two years back when no respectable place would hire me. That's pretty much the story of everyone in the Zone.

And so begins Jamie Quaid's Boyfriend from Hell (Saturn's Daughter series).

Would you continue reading?

Monday, May 13, 2013

Gardening

One of my many chores when I was a child was weeding. Oh, how I hated weeding. The sun would beat down on my back as I painstakingly pulled weeds out of the ground, trying to make sure to get the roots. My mother's interest in plants and flowers was about average sized--she planted and cared for them, keeping the yard mostly neat, but I wouldn't say she had a particular love for it. My dad religiously mowed the lawn and trimmed the trees and bushes.

My mother-in-law was born with two green thumbs and a love for all things related to gardening. I think my father-in-law was too. I wish it'd rubbed off on my husband. It would have made it easier for me.

I joke that my husband and I both have brown thumbs; we kill just about every plant we try to raise. Even the cactus. Whenever someone gives us a plant as a gift, we're given advice on how to keep it alive. It never happens. I don't know why people expect it will be different this time. It never is.

I've tried. In our old house, we had a giant flower box sitting right under the front windows of our house, along with an area for a flower bed just below. We tried all sorts of flowers and plants, faithfully watering them and trying to care for them. The perennials in particular flourished for awhile. But mostly everything just died.

As I often do, I looked around my backyard and imagined what it might look better with more plants and splashes of color. The flowerbeds are mostly bare. I mentioned to my mom one day that I was thinking of starting a rose garden. It was just another comment along the same lines of many. My wishful thinking, knowing I'd likely never follow through. Only, this time my mom took my words to heart and our Easter present this year was money to start our rose garden. I couldn't exactly give it back or use it for something else. She was very specific in what it could be used for. I suppose I could have kept putting it off--I even tried, saying it'd be better to plant them in the fall--but my mom kept asking.

And so, off we went. Anjin, Mouse and I. We spent an afternoon at a nursery, me dreaming about all the plants and trees I wanted to add to our garden, my husband wishing we'd hurry up so he could get home and take a nap, and Mouse hoping for another look at the birds, caged by the nursery entrance.

We narrowed our rose choices down to four different kinds and spent the next afternoon planting them, under the supervision of Mouse. She's quite the helper.

When I think about it, I really want Mouse to experience the joys of gardening. I'm hoping the roses will take and flourish. I have no intention of giving up so easily this time. I may not like gardening much now, but maybe if I force myself to do it, I'll eventually come to like it. I hope. And in the process, I hope my daughter will maybe develop that green thumb I don't have. It would make her grandmothers proud, anyway.

Plus, I've heard roses are pretty hardy. I guess we'll see . . .

Friday, May 03, 2013

My Riley


Riley Runyon, Our Best Friend (2000-May 2, 2013)

My husband and I loved our apartment, nestled among trees and greenery. It was our oasis. Yet we dreamed of moving into our own house. I wanted my own dog and a big backyard for him to play in. Nearly 10 months after moving into our own home, a fixer upper to be sure, my husband agreed I could finally get my dog.

It broke my heart, walking through the numerous animal shelters, seeing all those dogs locked behind bars, without homes to go to. I got teary-eyed more than once along the way. My husband and I had slightly different ideas of what kind of dog we wanted, but given Anjin was the one who was reluctant about the idea (he isn't a dog person), I let him take the lead. When we first saw Riley, he was very eager to please. He came right up to the bars of his kennel, tail wagging so hard his entire backside shook. He was adorable. We were allowed to visit with him in a private room at the shelter, where Riley, as soon as he walked in the door, went to my husband. A sign. The shelter staff told us Riley was 2 years old, which is the age we were looking for. The vet later told us he was more likely 1 year old. It didn't matter. Close enough and we were already smitten.

It wasn't an easy adjustment at first. There were tears. Doubts that we'd made the right decision. Not about Riley in particular, but about taking such a young dog in. I knew what we might expect on an intellectual level, but dealing with it all in person was a bit of a culture shock. My husband and I had been on our own so long and suddenly we had someone else to take care of too. I grew up with dogs, but my last childhood dog had been with us for 14 years. I'd been a lot younger when we took her in. As often happens, we got through those early baby blue days and Riley became a big part of our family.

I always joked that it was obvious Riley was adopted. He had a boundless amount of energy that lasted him well into his senior years. My husband and I have always been much more sedentary. It wasn't until last year that he started to slow down. He was diagnosed with arthritis in his back and put on medication that helped for awhile. I scratched his head and told him, "We're getting old, ol' boy."

I still remember the first day we brought him home, July 10, 2001, how shy he was, how cautious. He still wasn't sure of us or of this new environment we were putting him in. We let him explore the house at his own pace. At one point I had washed my hands and flicked water on him before drying my hands. He took off like a shot and hid under our bed. I felt bad. Eventually he came to like my doing that and thought it was a game.

The first time we heard him bark was in our backyard on that first day home. He let out a deep clear bark. We hadn't been sure he could bark. The woman at the shelter claimed he was a Basenji mix and Basenji's cannot bark. They make a yodel like sound instead. Well, whatever other kind of dog Riley had in his blood, he must have got his bark from the other part of him.

I loved Riley's coloring. Mostly white with patches of brown here and there. He had a couple of paw prints on his back; at least that's what they looked like. He was beautiful. He was slender in form, a smallish medium sized dog. I swear sometimes I could see him smiling.

Anjin and I struggled long and hard to come up with his name. I am not sure where Riley came from in the end, only that it came to me suddenly and we both knew it was the perfect name for him. Wiley Riley.

Riley was an escape artist. he often dug under the fence and got into the neighbors' yards during his earlier years. Occasionally he'd bolt out the front door if we weren't watching close enough--sometimes even when we were. He loved to explore and go on walks. During his unapproved outings, we would chase him around the block, not realizing the more we chased, the farther he'd go. It took a few times before we realized if we stayed at our house, he'd come back. Like a toddler exerting his independence, he needed to know we were close before he would continue too far.

He loved to be chased--and to chase. He enjoyed a good game of tug-a-war. He loved playing fetch most of all. He could do that for hours, whether inside or out. He was obsessed with balls and any type of throwing object really.

I loved how excited he would get after a bath, running around the house at full speed. He sometimes did that--the tuck-butt-and-run routine, as we came to call it. Getting out his excess energy. Everyone in the house would stand still wherever they were, least he run into us and knock us down.

Oh, how he hated baths! He'd try to hide at bath times and sit or stand there and shiver as he waited out the ordeal. I always felt so bad for him. He always sat well for my husband when he got his nails trimmed though. And he loved to be brushed.

He loved going for walks. He was good with other dogs. although he preferred smaller dogs to the bigger ones. And he was quite the jumper. Boy, could he jump! When we replaced the fence in the backyard of our first house, we made sure to get a six foot fence. Even then, Riley probably could have scaled it if he tried hard enough.

His enthusiasm when I came home from work or from running errands knew no bounds. Anyone who has ever had a dog knows that there's nothing that can compare to the greeting you get from your dog when you walk in the door. He'd nearly knock me down, his tail wagging fiercely.

Riley favored me of everyone in our house. He was definitely my dog. I had taken a couple weeks off work when we first brought him home and he and I bonded during that time. Riley would follow me everywhere he could. He was my shadow. Even though he was a bit too big, he was very much a lap dog. Whenever I would sit on the couch, he was right there, sprawled across my lap. When I sat at my computer, he jumped up and curled up behind me in the chair so that I would have to sit on the edge.

My dad was another of Riley's favorite humans. When my dad when come to visit, he spent much of his time playing with Riley, throwing him the ball and sitting with and talking to and petting him. Others did that with Riley too, of course, but my dad was a dog person through and through, and loved Riley like he was his own. I know it must have confused Riley when my mom started visiting without my dad.

Eight months after Riley joined our family, I brought home a stray cat that had been living in the parking lot of the courthouse where I was assigned at the time. He was just a little guy, an orange tabby, not even a year old. My husband had grown up with cats and he and Riley's relationship was at times strained. I wasn't sure how it would work, especially with my allergy to cats or how Riley and the kitten would take to each other. There were moments on that first day we doubted it would work, but by the end of the day, after our consistent efforts to get the two acclimated to each other, they became fast friends. Our cat, Parker, adored Riley. He'd rub against his legs, initiate play and even tried to cuddle up to Riley. Unfortunately, Riley was never much of a cuddler unless it was with an adult human.

It was the four of us for a number of years. We grew closer together each day and life was good. Riley eventually stopped chewing everything in sight but retained his overflowing energy. Always in motion (except when we cuddled together).

A few years later we added another cat to the mix. And while Riley and Anya got along great from the start (Anya was just a kitten), it took a long time for Parker to warm up to Anya. Much like Parker, she adored Riley and would bat at him from the top of the coffee table when Riley walked by, teasing him and encouraging him to play. She was even more of an instigator than Parker ever was.

Things changed considerably when we brought Mouse home from the hospital. I had done little things here and there to prepare the animals for her homecoming, but Riley, who'd for years had my undivided attention, suddenly had competition. He was jealous. And I was unable to give him the same kind of attention he'd had before. It didn't help that I was going through Postpartum Depression either. We often think in terms of how it affects the other humans in the house, especially ourselves, but it also impacts the animals.

I had hoped Riley would take to Mouse the way you see in those pictures--with babies and dogs cuddling up together. Riley clearly didn't like Mouse initially, to the point where I wondered if I would have to do the unthinkable and re-home Riley. Fortunately, my mom and a fellow dog lover talked some sense into me. Riley was my forever dog, had been with me for all those years and was my first baby, and what we needed most was time to adjust to each other. It was rough going that first year, especially when Mouse became mobile. We stuck it out though, and while I can't say Riley bonded with Mouse quite the way I had hoped, the two did eventually become friends. At least, they found a way to co-exist happily. Mouse enjoyed chasing Riley around the house and took to sitting with me and petting him when he was feeling at his worst. She even offered him kisses to help him feel better and a pillow when he was resting under a blanket. I loved it when we'd walk into the house after we'd been out and she would say, "We're home, Riley! We're home!" I don't know that she ever really understood why she couldn't eat Riley's treats too, although she did like to give him treats--and often gave him her own food, on purpose and by accident.

Riley held onto his youth for so long I began to think he was invincible. I used to tell him he wasn't allowed to die. These past three months, as his health went into a significant decline, I began telling him it was okay if he wanted to let go, not to hold on just because of me. After numerous vet visits and different medications, we saw improvement and then the cycle would repeat. Yesterday it got to be too much. Tests showed that Riley had neurological damage complicated by recurring pneumonia. We could have treated him further, but the prognosis was extremely poor. My husband and I had to make the hardest decision of our lives. We decided to let him go. The doctors were wonderful and kind. They agreed we were making the best decision for Riley.

The memories are flowing through me right now. I can still hear the jingle of Riley's collar as he wanders around the house. I can hear the pitter patter of his feet on the kitchen floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I sometimes catch him running after a ball in the backyard. I catch myself calling to him and looking for him. It will be awhile before I stop going to the back door to let him out, I am sure.

Riley was my best friend. He was my baby. Words cannot express the love I feel for him.

Today Riley is with my dad. They are playing fetch, no doubt.

I love you, Riley. Take care of him for me, Dad. I miss you both so much.

Thursday, May 02, 2013

Bookish Thoughts: Frozen in Time by Mitchell Zuckoff

Frozen in Time: An Epic Story of Survival and a Modern Quest for Lost Heroes of World War II by Mitchell Zuckoff

Harper, 2013

Nonfiction; 416 pgs

Airplane crashes and rescues are not my usual cup of tea, but after having read Mitchell Zuckoff's Lost in Shangri-La last year, I knew I could not pass up the opportunity to read and review his latest, Frozen in Time. Besides, I have a special place in my heart for the military.

My grandfather was stationed in the South Pacific during World War II, and so never visited Greenland, as far as I know. I can't recall if my father had ever been there. Of course, he was born in January of 1943, and so had no knowledge of the events transpiring in Greenland at the time, about the search and rescue missions and the downed planes. This is the kind of book I would have gotten him as a Father's Day present though--I know he would have enjoyed it.

From the Publisher:

Frozen in Time is a gripping true story of survival, bravery, and honor in the vast Arctic wilderness during World War II, from the author of New York Times bestseller Lost in Shangri-La.

On November 5, 1942, a US cargo plane slammed into the Greenland Ice Cap. Four days later, the B-17 assigned to the search-and-rescue mission became lost in a blinding storm and also crashed. Miraculously, all nine men on board survived, and the US military launched a daring rescue operation. But after picking up one man, the Grumman Duck amphibious plane flew into a severe storm and vanished.

Frozen in Time tells the story of these crashes and the fate of the survivors, bringing vividly to life their battle to endure 148 days of the brutal Arctic winter, until an expedition headed by famed Arctic explorer Bernt Balchen brought them to safety. Mitchell Zuckoff takes the reader deep into the most hostile environment on earth, through hurricane-force winds, vicious blizzards, and subzero temperatures.

Moving forward to today, he recounts the efforts of the Coast Guard and North South Polar Inc. – led by indefatigable dreamer Lou Sapienza – who worked for years to solve the mystery of the Duck’s last flight and recover the remains of its crew.

A breathtaking blend of mystery and adventure Mitchell Zuckoff's Frozen in Time: An Epic Story of Survival and a Modern Quest for Lost Heroes of World War II is also a poignant reminder of the sacrifices of our military personnel and a tribute to the everyday heroism of the US Coast Guard.

I am always awed by stories of the selflessness of our soldiers, about our heroes. Ordinary men (and women) who do extraordinary things to help others. The men described in Frozen in Time faced great odds and yet they were willing to risk their lives to help their fellow man.

Zuckoff's description of the conditions faced in Greenland during the winter of 1942/1943 were frightening to say the least. I can't even imagine. I often say that I like it when fiction authors are able to turn the setting into its own character--well, Greenland certainly earned that role in Zuckoff's nonfiction book. Greenland humbled the cockiest of men. It was in control and the island never let anyone forget it.

The author goes back and forth in his book between the past and the present. I admit I was most taken with the past and couldn't wait to get back to the survivors on the icecap when reading the more modern sections. Just the same, it was interesting to read about the difficulties faced in trying to get the expedition to find the Grumman Duck as well as all that went into it. I was pulling for Lou Sapienza as he tried to get the money and support he needed to carry it off. I admired the dedication and willingness of U.S. Coast Guard Commander James Blow to bringing the bodies of the World War II Coast Guard Vets home. And I was eager to see the team they put together succeed.

With the crash of the C-53 Cargo plane, the rescue effort began. It was an impossible search. No one knew where the plane had crashed and communication with the five crew aboard was limited. The odds were against them from the start.

The nine men on the B-17 who had been sent on the rescue mission were ill-prepared for surviving in an arctic climate, which is exactly what they were forced to do when their plan crashed. It was a harrowing experience for them all. A couple of the men were injured and all were affected by the bitter cold. They pulled together and did the best they could, not sure it would be enough. Through interviews and documentation, Zuckoff presents their experiences with candor, thoughtfulness and respect. I felt like I got to know each of the men and I wanted so much for them all to survive.

Unlike the cargo plane who lost radio contact soon after the crash, the B-17 crew were in a slightly better position in that regard. They were able to communicate their location in order for possible rescue. Regardless, it would be a risky rescue. Surrounded by hidden crevasses and trapped on an active glacier that hadn't completely settled, the odds weren't good.

John Pritchard, Jr, and Benjamin Bottoms of the Grumman Duck made a bold move in attempting to rescue the B-17 crew. Pritchard landed the amphibious plane on the ice cap itself. It was a success! Two of the survivors were able to fly out with Pritchard and Bottoms, reaching safety. Hopes were high that they could do it again, however, they were still cautious. Weather conditions were unpredictable. The second attempt was met with a bad storm and Pritchard, Bottoms and the lone survivor they had on board disappeared.

There are many heroes in this story, from the military personnel who dropped supplies to the survivors, the pilots who searched from the sky for the downed planes, the dogs and their sledders as well as those on the motor sleds, those who directed and those who were in the field. They would stop at nothing until they brought the last of the survivors home.

Frozen in Time is a tragic story as well as one of bravery and heroism. Men did die, becoming Greenland's victims. But men also survived, making this a story of hope as well. I was touched by Zuckoff's own efforts to bring the men of the Grumman Duck home, how invested he was in their story and that of the survivors of the B-17. I am glad he was able to go on the expedition to Greenland in search of the Grumman Duck. It brings the story home even more.

Rating:

(Very Good)

To learn more about Mitchell Zuckoff and his books, please visit the author's website. You can also learn more about the author by visiting his Facebook page, and Twitter account.