A. L. Kaplan

Tag: animals

  • HUMMINGBIRD FUN FACTS: Nighty Night

    Costa Rica – Photo by Paige Kaplan

    Most of us relax when we sleep, but hummingbirds can take it one step farther. If their energy reserves get really low, they can enter a state of torpor.

    Torpor – Noun

    Pronounced:   tȯr-pər

    1a: a state of mental and motor inactivity with partial or total insensibility.

    b: a state of lowered physiological activity typically characterized by reduced metabolism, heart rate, respiration, and body temperature that occurs in varying degrees especially in hibernating and estivating animals.

    from: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/torpor

    Their breathing becomes shallow and irregular and they can slow their heartbeats to 50 beats per minutes. Talk about a deep sleep! They can stay in this state for 8 to 14 hours. It could take up to an hour to get back up to normal speed the next day.

    Hummingbird: A Star Touched Story

    Plagued by memories not her own, a young hummingbird struggles to decipher the visions and powers that set her apart from her fellow birds. But the road to awareness is fraught with danger that could doom her to repeat history. One step toward understanding. One stride toward survival. One leap toward flying free from the past.

    STAR TOUCHED

    STAR TOUCHED

    Sometimes it’s hard to be who you are meant to be.

    Especially when your powers can get you killed.

    Eighteen-year-old Tatiana is running from her past and her star-touched powers eight years after a meteor devastates earth’s population.

    Her power to heal may be overshadowed by more destructive abilities. Fleeing the persecution of those like her, Tatiana seeks refuge in a small town she once visited. But this civil haven, in a world where society has broken down, is beginning to crumble.

    Only by harnessing the very forces that haunt her can Tatiana save her friends…and herself.

  • WOLF NOTES: An Uncommon Interview – Tracy Barton-Barrett

    081
    Welcome to WOLF NOTES, where interview questions stray from the rest of the pack. It’s nice to know the usual stuff like where an author gets their inspiration and why they write, but sometimes we need a little fun in our lives.

    Wolf: I had the pleasure of meeting Tracie Barton-Barrett at the Baltimore Book Festival this fall. Please welcome her to Wolf Notes.

    Tracie&MishkaAs a life-long animal enthusiast, Tracie Barton-Barrett is a speaker, Licensed Professional Counselor with a specialty in pet loss, and former psychology and sociology instructor. Buried Deep in Her Hearts is her debut novel, and she hopes it will help the reader to relate, reflect, and heal after the loss of a beloved animal. She’s facilitated pet loss support groups and presented and written articles on the subject. She and her husband live in North Carolina in the US and are owned by their two cats, Rutherford B. Barrett and Oliver Monkey.

    Wolf: What was the first seed of an idea you had for your book and how did it develop?

    Tracy: Buried Deep in Our Hearts is a novel that uses a dog, cat, and horse story line to celebrate our important connection to our animals, and honor their memories. As someone who has lost animal companions, the desire to write a book about pet loss, and addressing the unique, yet universal experience, was always a goal of mine. We know now that when a person experiences sadness or grief, similar parts of the brain light up as if a person were experiencing physical pain. After losing two beloved pets in grad school, I remembered what one of my professors said, “Don’t do nothing (with grief.)”

    Buried_Deep_in_our_H_Cover_for_Kindle (1)So, ever the devoted student, I delved into pet loss research, copying as many articles as I could, proud of my newfound labeled and neatly stacked folders. But, they just sat there. Collecting dust. For years. It wasn’t until the anniversary of our Kimball Kitty’s death (whose story is featured in my book) when it hit me: Make it fiction.

    From the second this “a-ha moment” occurred, a new energy and trajectory took its course, and Buried Deep in Our Hearts was born. Ironically, I primarily read non-fiction for most of my childhood. I was more interested in reading books about psychology and physiology than picking a book from a fiction reading list. It’s only been in the last ten years that I’ve read and truly enjoyed fiction. I know that my book came from something bigger than myself.

    Wolf: It’s hard for non-pet owners to understand the connection we have to our pets and the loss we feel when they are gone. They are part of the family. Just wondering, do you consider yourself a cat person, or a dog person?

    Tracy: Yes! And, a horse person, as well as an elephant person, and a sloth person, and an orangutan person, and a swan person, and …..

    Wolf: Not surprised at your answer. What is the strangest food you’ve ever eaten?

    Tracy: As a seafood lover, I thought I would try Lionfish. Yes, the beautiful, striped fish you see in the aquariums with the long spines. Unfortunately, they are upsetting the ocean’s balance because they don’t have any natural predators. So, as a seafood lover, I decided to take one for the team, and try one. Unfortunately, it didn’t end so well for me. The bathroom became my best friend the next day. Maybe the spines weren’t completely cooked out!

    Wolf: Sorry to hear that. I’ll steer clear of them. If you could have a super power, what would it be?

    Bubby&Me

    Tracy: To be able to teleport. It sure would cut down on travel expenses! I do believe that toddlers, as well as my cats, already teleport!

    Wolf: I think you’re right. Which of your characters is your favorite?

    Tracy: Gladys Paisley. Eccentric, older women always make me smile. Can’t pick a favorite animal character. They’re all my favorite!

     

    Wolf: What is your favorite body of water and why?

    Tracy: As a native of Michigan, I’m certainly a “water baby.” I’m drawn to any body of water, larger than a puddle. I used to live in Virginia Beach near the ocean and would visit the Boardwalk every day, regardless of the weather. The constancy and rhythm of the waves soothed my mind, especially after a stressful day.

    Wolf: I’ve always loved the ocean myself. What story are you working on now?

    Tracy: This can be a trick question for an author! For me, much of the work happens even before sentences are typed out on the screen. At the moment, I’m writing a novel focusing on a girl that loves horses, but, for various reasons, can’t have one. I’m also looking into writing a children’s book based on Buried Deep in Our Hearts. In addition, there are two other books that are just in the planning stage, but all my books will celebrate the human-animal bond, in some form.

    Wolf: Love the idea for the children’s book. What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

    Tracy: Love to travel, laugh from a really good or clever joke or meme, learn about history, be near the water, listen to and play music, watch movies and Will & Grace or Friends reruns, or find a good bingeable Netflix or Hulu show.

    Tracie&horseWolf: You really like water, don’t you. If this question were any question in the world, what question would you want it to be and how would you answer it?

    Tracy: The question I asked my students: Who would you like to play you in a movie if they did a biopic of your life? Most of my students said they think Tina Fey for me. What an honor—she’s such an amazing and talented woman. Not to mention, hilarious!

    The other question is: What is the best compliment you’ve ever received? Because we tend to remember negative things people say about us, also known as the negativity bias, many students needed a minute to think. Truthfully, so did I. But, when I heard my students say that something I said changed, or even saved their life, it doesn’t get much better than that. 😊

    Wolf: Connect with Tracy on Social Media.

    Social Media Links:
    Email: An**************@***il.com
    Website: www.AnimalsConnectUs.com
    FaceBook: www.facebook.com/TBartonBarrett
    Twitter: @AnimalsConnect
    Instagram: traciebartonbarrett
    Amazon (Please buy new copies. Used copies only benefit seller) Paperback & Kindle: https://goo.gl/eXERyq

    Books make great gifts.

    Don’t forget to pick up you’re copy of STAR TOUCHED.

    book gift jpg

     

  • WOLF NOTES: An Uncommon Interview – Katika Schneider

    081Welcome to WOLF NOTES, where interview questions stray from the rest of the pack. It’s nice to know the usual stuff like where an author gets their inspiration and why they write, but sometimes we need a little fun in our lives.

    CaptainKatikaSchneiderA lover of literary adventure and notorious breaker of writing rules, Katika Schneider’s been an obsessive writer for most of her life. She started out writing for herself before surrendering to her characters’ demands, and began pursuing publication in 2014. She’s a firm believer that everyone has a story to tell.

    Holding her degree in Animal Science, Kat planned on attending veterinary school until incisions started making her faint. Today, her non-writing hobbies include classical horsemanship, collecting garden gnomes, customizing toy horses, binge watching anime, and rolling around on the floor making stupid noises with her awesome dog. She lives with her husband and their abundant family of critters.

    Wolf: Thanks for stopping by for this interview, Katika. If you had to pick a weapon, what would it be and why?

    Katika: A tank. Absolutely, 100% a tank. My husband used to tell me he wanted me to either learn how to use throwing axes or get me a shotgun because “nobody would want to cross a woman who ran at them, screaming, wielding either of those,” but I’m pretty sure a tank would work better. It’d also provide the benefits of a mode of transportation, armor of sorts, and I’m pretty sure people would be less likely to cut me off in traffic or run red lights in front of me.

    Wolf: I’d pick another road to drive on. What is the nicest thing you’ve ever done to your characters?

    Katika: I consider writing a sacred duty in that my characters only exist in my mind until I make the effort to record their adventures. I do my best to listen to my characters, to let them make their own choices, and to record their lives as authentically as I can so that they can continue to live in my readers’ minds. I’d like to think that’s a pretty nice thing to do for my characters.

    Wolf: Absolutely. Do you consider yourself a cat person, or a dog person?

    Katika: I’ll preface this one by saying that I’ve got five cats and one dog, and I love them all dearly. I can’t imagine a quality life without either of them, and they both have different qualities that make them The Best, but dogs always seem a bit more genuine to me. And you can’t really sing howling songs with cats.

    Wolf: Very true. There is a door at the end of a dark, damp corridor. You hear rumbling. What do you do?

    Katika: Roll Knowledge Dungeoneering to see if I can figure out what it could be. Either way, I’m probably searching for traps and preparing to pick the lock to investigate.

    Just kidding. Real Katika probably would blink and say, “Why am I in a dark, damp corridor? This isn’t where I belong!” and high tail it out of there.

    Wolf: Spoken like a true gamer. What five items would you want to have in a post-cataclysmic world?

    Katika: I’m taking the liberty of claiming that people and animals don’t count as “items.”
    1. Some way to record my thoughts that does not rely on electric or battery power. Some people would want a lifetime supply of bullets or canned food—I’d want a lifetime supply of ink.
    2. My tank from question one. Even if I ran out of fuel for it, it’d still offer me durable protection from the elements and any antagonistic forces lurking about.
    3. A knife. The bushwhacking kind that I could use for multiple purposes.
    4. A whetstone to keep said knife in working order.
    5. A toothbrush.

     Wolf: Good choices. What is your favorite body of water and why? (river, ocean, waterfall, puddle, bottle…)

    Katika: While I am a notorious puddle jumper, I love creeks and streams. I’m sure part of this is due to nostalgia, as I grew up in rural Missouri, but they’re so soothing. Except, of course, when they’re flooding.

    Startouched front cover2Wolf: Flooding is a big problem. (There is a pretty significant one in Star Touched.) What story are you working on now?

    Katika: I’m currently working on Defiance, book 4 of the Tale of the Fallen. As I’m responding to these questions, it’s about 2/3 of the way through its second draft. I’m also gearing up to help co-author a portal fantasy, though I don’t have a set timeline for it yet.

    Wolf: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

    Katika: When I’m not writing (or doing other activities related to it), I’m either playing with my dog, riding my horses, binge watching anime, or participating in some type of gaming. On my actual days fully away from work, I like to go antiquing and visiting hokey tourist traps (bonus points if they’ve got life-size statues of dinosaurs)

    Wolf: Sounds like fun.

    Conect with Katika through these links.
    Website: http://katikaschneider.com/
    Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KatikaSchneider/
    Twitter: https://twitter.com/KatikaSchneider
    Author Central: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01DAG9UBA
    GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15142056.Katika_Schneider

  • WONDERFALL

    103

    “This is Wonderfall,” said Mark.

    The thirteen year old looked at the rushing water with a board expression. His lips twisted in an all too familiar grimace. “It’s a waterfall, Dad.”

    “But this one is special. Grandpa Jack took me here when I was ten. Best fishing in Maryland.”

    “You mean the same Grandpa Jack I never got to meet ‘cause you had a fight thirteen years ago? Dragging me to all these ‘special’ places isn’t going to bring him back.”

    Mark’s stomach clenched. This wasn’t the father son trip he’d envisioned. He and his dad had drifted apart, then had a big blow-up right before Jason was born. Now the same thing was happening with Jason.

    It seemed like yesterday Jason wanted to be a mini Mark. Then his mom died and everything changed. There had to be a way to keep history from repeating. Around them birds sang. Water cascaded over rocks, each splash of water a soothing balm. The two of them may as well have been worm eaten husks of oak, empty, disconnected.

    A pair of deer peered at them from across the stream, one full racked, the other single pronged.  Mark drew in a sharp breath. Even Jason stopped kicking stones. It felt like they were waiting for something.

    “You’re right, Jason,” said Mark. “I haven’t been listening. Let’s do something you like.

    ***

    “You think they got it?” said the smaller buck as Mark and Jason walked away.

    “I sure hope so, Jack.”

  • THE RESCUE

    I glare at the man who tried to kill me and spit the grenade pin onto the ground. He and his pals picked the wrong folks to mess with when they abducted Mistress. I’m way more than a little white dog. I scramble across the beach and into the water as the man turns into confetti.

    A little twist of magical energy and my fur vanishes, paws become flippers. I shoot toward the wooden dingy like a torpedo. Too busy gaping at the cloud of smoke on the beach, the four pirates don’t notice me until I transform and land amidst them as a king cobra. My venom splatters the man closest. He tumbles into the water. Ducking a machete, I bite another man. The machete gouges the bottom of the boat. Water bubbles up. Good thing Mistress still wears her magic boots.

    Something grabs me. Not good. I can change shape, not mass, so I’m small. Fur once again covers my body, this time with feline accessories. I twist and slash with my claws. Blood streams, but he holds me fast under the water. Spots fill my eyes. I have to wait for energy to replenish.

    Finally I can change shape again. My new eel form shoots electricity in one enormous blast. The two remaining pirates convulse, then collapse. It’s not over yet. The dingy is sinking. Mistress is too hurt and tired to transform. So am I, but somehow we make it to shore. Mission accomplished.

  • Dominator

    Flies swarmed the carcass and I cursed. This was the tenth heifer that had been ripped to shreds. A low rumbling growl made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I spun away from the remains and came face to face with Fang. His lips curled back, teeth gleaming. Five other coyotes circled the carcass. What devil drove these beasts to confront a human in broad daylight? And since when did coyotes hunt in packs?

    Fang glared with an almost human hatred. I raised my gun, shaking so hard the shot went wild. The coyotes didn’t flinch. Gramps thought the wild horses were a problem, thought they would ruin the field and contaminate our cattle. At least horses didn’t kill. I fumbled to reload, dropping a cartridge. Fang leaped before I could raise the weapon. I stumbled back, tripping over the carcass. Sixteen was too young to die.

    Something flew over my head, crashing into Fang. Dominator, the chestnut stallion that led the wild horses, trumpeted his challenge. A strange reddish hue glimmered in Dominator’s eyes and the white patch on his head shone like some weird third eye. His sharp hooves made short work of Fang and the other crazed coyotes, trampling even those who tried to flee. Was this the same bold colt I had spotted only two years ago? I stared in wonder, thankful to be in his favor. Dominator seemed to nod once with an eerie intelligence. Then he trotted off.

  • It’s Only A Dog

    A fuzzy face and small pink tongue
    Little tail swishing back and forth
    Joyful exuberance at every greeting
    New friend with the trusting eyes
    Chasing tails and squirrels alike
     
    Barking, yapping all night long
    Scattered papers and chewed remotes
    Trash strewn and shredded slippers
    Piles and puddles on the floor
    Drool and fur even on the door
     
    Stealing food from highest hight
    Sickness, always at midnight
    Enormous vet bills, headaches, stress
    Restless nights with no rest
    Endless panting, jumping and yet…
     
    Unconditional love in those trusting eyes
    Always glad to see you even on your grumpiest day
    Greeting as if you’ve been gone an eternity
    Even after only a moment
    Lifting you up when sadness abounds
     
    Running in the park and chasing balls
    Catching Frisbees
    Tongue hanging in joy
    Happy days splashing in the lake
    Snuggling close into soothing fur
     
    Slowing down
    The table’s too high
    Silver fur replacing dark
    Soft eyes,
    A swishing tail
     
    I understand
    It’s time to say goodbye
    Letting go with a heavy heart
    It’s only a dog
    Yet so much more

  • Greener Pastures

    Swallows flitted across the meadow on the far side of the fence. Henrietta leaned her head on the barrier and watched them soar. It was so much greener over there. Of course everything else looks greener when you’re stuck in prison. Gertrude and Mildred didn’t care. They were too dumb to notice, but Henrietta noticed. Ever since the night those strange creatures flew down from the stars and poked at her, Henrietta had begun to look at her life in ways she never even considered. It was as if a door had opened in her mind.

    Most of the other cows thought only of chewing their cud, content to be herded to the machine that stole milk meant for their children. They didn’t even realize they were in a prison camp. All the other cows saw was limitless food. No matter that their children were taken away. Even Henrietta had forgotten about her calf until the strangers helped remind her.

    And when the cows stop producing milk, what then? There was no happy retirement for their lifetime of slave labor. Dried up cows got trucked away, never to be seen again.

    Well, Henrietta wasn’t going to wait to be taken to the slaughterhouse. She was going to escape and fly free like the swallows, maybe even find her calf. The plan was ready. Her rabbit friends had loosened the fence post. All she needed to do now was convince the bear to yank it down. Shouldn’t be hard at all.

  • For the Love of Canines: Praeses Part 2

    Praeses 10After growing up with an untrained dog, I was determined to teach my puppy. The hopes were for a cross between Lassie and Rin Tin Tin. A friendly stranger introduced me to the Dog Owners Training Club of Maryland, and so began our education. Note the name says dog owners training, and not dog training. I had as much to learn about teaching a dog as Praeses had to learn about good behavior.

    I took everything in stride, even when she talked back during class. And she really did talk back, even as she followed every command I gave her. Our education went so wonderfully, that I decided to enter her in an obedience trial. It wasn’t until we had earned the second leg of our Companion Dog degree that someone mentioned that Alaskan Malamutes were supposed to be difficult to train. She came in first place and was even the highest scoring novice at the show. The very next week at what should havPraeses 7e been our last novice trial, she sat across the ring during the sit stay and turned it into a sit say. I wanted nothing better than to crawl under the mats and hide I was so embarrassed. Needless to say, we were disqualified.

    Praeses did earn her degree a few weeks later. In fact, she was the highest scoring novice Alaskan Malamute in the country for 1990. Her picture is published in the Alaskan Malamute Praeses 8Annual for 1991 on page 8. She’s listed as Heljwins Praeses Kaplan CD with a score of 197 out of 200. We hit our obedience wall with retrieving. Wooden dumbbells just weren’t her thing. Neither was bringing things back to me. While we didn’t compete at the higher levels, we did continue going to class for fun.

    People always asked me if Praeses knew any tricks.  Well, I only taught her two stupid pet tricks. She could balance a cookie on the end of her nose and catch it on command. A friend of mine needed a wolf for a movie he was making, so I also taught her to play dead. Praeses was a bit of a ham and did a stumble-stumble fall while doing it, complete with convincing death vocalizations. She was billed as Praeses the Wonder Dog. Ah, the joys of life at an art school. Did I mention she wore costumes? I still have her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtledog costume in the basement. She was Michelangelo, complete with numb chucks and pizza.Praeses 9

    Down the street from my apartment was an empty lot which was used as an unofficial off Lead Park. Every morning and evening the local pack would meet up and play. Even as a puppy Praeses knew she would be big and tried to throw her shoulder at the larger dogs. It was rather amusing to watch. Remember that smart little pup who sought out the shade? Well, every time the dog tag/chase game ran its wide circle around the park, Praeses cut across the center to catch the leader. Worked every time. Overall, Praeses was very smart, except when it came to tennis balls. She absolutely loved them…as snacks. In a matter of twenty minutes, while visiting a friend’s house, Praeses consumed three and a half balls. Luckily she was fine, but didn’t feel well for a few days. She also learned to wake me by bouncing her head on my bed. As a rule, Praeses wasn’t allowed on the furniture, but one day when I was sick, she looked at me with those big brown eyes. I could see the question in her eyes asking “can I?” All I did was nod my head slightly and say ok. She was on the bed in a flash and quickly curled up at my feet.

    Praeses was more than a dog. She was a companion and friend, the anchor that kept me grounded in reality, never allowing my mind to drift careless when I needed to be focused. We moved out of the city when I got married and started a pack of our own. Praeses passed away in her sleep one month before my second daughter was born.

  • For the Love of Canines: Praeses Part 1

    Praeses 3Several years after Tiger passed on I found myself living in downtown Baltimore. Grad school at MICA was fine, but city life just isn’t my thing. I missed the outdoors and going for walks in the park without fear. Walks at night were out of the question unless I had an escort. More importantly, I missed the kind of companionship only a dog can give. No strings, no demands, just unconditional love. Unfortunately, without a MD drivers license, adopting from the local animal shelter was out.

    I’ve always felt it important to do research before adopting any pet. After all, a bad personality mix is worse than no pet at all. The needs of the pet have to be met. A stray cocker spaniel followed me home one day. It was cute, but grabbed my ankles when I tried to play, which I found annoying. Besides, she was way too small for me. I wanted a dog I could pet without having to bend over, one I wouldn’t be afraid of stepping on by accident. It wasn’t hard to find her a good home, but that left me still dogless.

    While perusing a book in the library, I discovered the perfect breed of dog for me. The first line on the description read “don’t let the wolf like characteristics for this breed deter you.” I was hooked.  The Alaskan malamute is a working dog and like most of the northern breeds, highly independent.

    I found a local breeder through an ad, and after several interviews, was allowed to pick a dog from her litter. Half a dozen puppies ran and greeted me enthusiastically on that 95 degree humid day. One small fur ball said hello, then separate from the frenzied pack and crawled under the shade of a lawn chair. She was different, with shorter fur, and in my eyes smarter for getting out of the sun. I knew then, that she was the dog for me. As luck would have it, she was also ‘improperly coated’, which meant she wasn’t a show dog. That was fine. I wanted a companion, not a beauty pageant queen. So, for 200 dollars and a barter deal for a few sculptures, my new best friend came home with me.

    Praeses 4

    Praeses is Latin for guardian or protector or in her case, protectoress. She more than lived up to her name, protecting me from every squirrel and dog in the neighborhood. Her very appearance, even as a puppy inspired some people in the city to cross the road, rather than walk past her on the sidewalk. If they only knew. Praeses, like wolves in the wild, lived by the hierarchy of the pack.  I was her alpha, but most people were betas in her eyes, putting her one level below. I kept that secret safe.Praeses 5

    Praeses 6

    Funds were tight as a student, and I gulped at our first vet visit when the receptionist handed us our bill and politely said, “That will be 150 dollars this time” It was the ‘this time’ that got me. Owning a dog is expense but worth it.

    Our first night, I was so afraid she would have an accident in the house, that I didn’t sleep a wink. Every time she stirred, I would scoop her up and take her to the curb. We finally got our rhythms in sync after a week or so, and my roommate told me how to make a station chain in the kitchen to keep her out of mischief until she was house trained. Even if I could have afforded a crate, my research had mentioned that malamutes preferred tie outs to the confinement of a crate.