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    Kat Tales: Stories of a House...Broken
    Kat Tales: Stories of a House...Broken
    Kat Tales: Stories of a House...Broken
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    Kat Tales: Stories of a House...Broken

    By Kathryn E. Brown

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    About this ebook

    Advance Praise for Kat Tales

    If you enjoy hearing about animals getting the best of Katy Brown as much as I do, then you'll LOVE this book!

    -Brad McElhinny, Managing Editor
    The Charleston Daily Mail

    Life is anything but tame.

    Its true that essayist Kathryn Brown knows how to tell a story. Whats especially interesting is that Katys success as an independent published author began with her amusing Facebook posts, considered a daily comic strip by her readers.

    In her first book of non-fiction, Kat Tales, a memoir of life with animals, youll discover for yourself how Katys creativity runs wild! Each adventure is laugh-out- loud funny, from a dangerous raccoon that she couldnt get rid of, to a pair of intruders that she couldn't wait to catch. Katy describes through vivid detail how even the smallest pet can turn into the biggest worry.

    Katys humorous criticism of her own life is highlighted by dueling dialogues and awkward attempts to explain her way out of wacky situations. Kat Tales may be a collection of short stories, but its every bit of a reality show in print! If you loved Lucy, then youll adore Katy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateMar 23, 2012
    ISBN9781468556872
    Kat Tales: Stories of a House...Broken
    Author

    Kathryn E. Brown

    Kathryn E. Brown is an author, freelance writer and a popular "Mommyhood" blogger for the Charleston Daily Mail. Katy earned a bachelor's degree in mass communications and a master's degree in human resource management from the University of Charleston. Katy and her husband are the proud parents of two daughters.

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      Book preview

      Kat Tales - Kathryn E. Brown

      Contents

      Introduction

      Kat Tales

      Hare Raising

      Animal Husbandry

      The Tale of Two Betties

      I C M P N

      I00% Bull

      Squirreled Away

      Cat Burglars

      Excerpt from Diary of a Grumpy Mom Carpe Diem

      About the Author

      Dedicated to my husband, Mike,

      who never stopped me from taking in an animal.

      (But he should have.)

      36661.jpg

      With special thanks to Sis, for helping make this book possible.

      Limit of Liability

      This book is for entertainment purposes only. All of the characters and events in this book have been modified for privacy. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead; positions or titles; places, real or imagined; or to situations, real or imagined; are coincidental and not intended by the author.

      Acknowledgement is made to the Charleston Daily Mail, in which some of Kathryn Brown’s stories, in various forms, first appeared as part of The Mommyhood, WV blog. Content in this book appears with permission.

      Author’s Credits

      Editing:   Cara Bailey

      Photography:   Pamela Cummings

      Book credit:   Charlotte’s Web (1952)

      Acknowledgements

      Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been addicted to animals. I’ve had many in my lifetime – dogs, cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, fish, birds, horses – and I’ve cherished them all. While it has taken significant time, energy and money to care for them properly, each pet has provided great joy, immediate comfort, undeniable love and much-needed laughter. I’m grateful to know other people who love their animals as much as I do, people who fully understand the meaning of (wo)man’s best friend.

      I send a note of special thanks to my social network that encouraged me to write a book, and to my closest girlfriends who pushed me to keep typing when I wanted to shelve the idea altogether. I send my thanks to the editors of the Daily Mail, who gave a rather inexperienced blogger a chance to put herself out there. I also appreciate the support of several attorneys who are my good friends as well as trusted advisers. I’d mention each of you by name, but I’m afraid to.

      Lastly, I’m very thankful for the patience of my baby girls, who are not so little anymore. They played together or by themselves for hours at a time so that I could achieve a childhood dream of my own. Ava and Maryn, you are more precious to me than anything else in this world, and I love you more than words can say.

      Introduction

      For some bizarre reason, I think I possess the mythical Snow White-type quality that attracts animals. I guess I look somewhat like Snow White, or Disney’s 1937 version – the pale complexion (let’s call that ‘alabaster’), the dark hair (let’s call that color ‘5B’), the scarlet lips (let’s call them ‘Revlon Red’) – surrounded by adorable wildlife and two dwarfs (let’s call them ‘children’). When I walk into a pet shop or shelter, I make eye contact with each animal-friend as if to communicate how much I understand them, and if I had the extra room in my house as well as a boarding kennel permit, I’d take them home. But I can’t. And it’s not because I haven’t tried.

      Yet in caring for the animals that I do have and have had, I’ve encountered a number of situations that are just too amazing to keep to myself. I’ve observed behavior that made human beings look like beasts, and I’ve personally experienced the affection of animals that no human being could replicate. Animals are silent, unconditional companions during our best and worst times, and they’ll protect us to the very end.    Nevertheless, they’re a lot of work as I’ve come to find out, far harder today than anything I knew growing up. It takes so much more effort to keep even the most domesticated pet alive these days! Still, as I sign my name to family contracts swearing that I’ll never again adopt or purchase another animal, I know that my fingers are crossed behind my back. I can’t give them up and everyone else knows it’s just a matter of time until I’m welcoming another mouth to feed into my dander-covered home.

      Until then, here are a few stories that remind us that I’m not the only one who lacks the good sense God gave a goose.

      Kat Tales

      36664.jpg

      "I’m not as fancy as some, but I’ll do."

      - Charlotte A. Cavatica

      Charlotte’s Web

      Chapter One

      Hare Raising

      In Greenbrier County, one of the most serene and beautiful places in West Virginia, there was a special shade tree in the middle of the state fairgrounds where some of my relatives flocked to people-watch. They’d claim the bench by the tree early in the day to sit and observe all walks of life, considered more entertaining than whatever country music band was performing live on the main stage.

      I’m not a huge fan of any summertime fair because I can’t stand the heat and humidity, but I do enjoy strolling through the barns to look at blue-ribbon cows and goats. The barn reminds me of Charlotte’s Web -- young Ferns and Averies sitting on bales of hay nodding to visitors as they stop and stare; Wilburs standing at Some Pig attention, while large, gray spiders hover overhead. For two weeks in late August, there is no better place to take in the oddities of human behavior than at the fair, and that alone is worth the price of admission.

      I’m grateful the circus-like atmosphere between the animals and their owners doesn’t have to end when we get in the car and drive two hours back to Charleston. I can pick up where we left off at the fairgrounds just by standing in line at a supermarket, sitting in the waiting room at a doctor’s office, or leaning against the counter at the veterinary clinic. Now, this is the place where you can see it all…the fanatical and the freakish.

      During one morning while my daughters were in school, I hauled their rabbit named Butterscotch to our neighborhood animal hospital for a toenail trim. Butterscotch, reportedly a subcompact breed not to exceed two pounds, was really a Flemish Giant weighing in at a whopping 13 pounds and requiring a handmade, two-story habitat to provide enough room for his outstretched length. He barely fit into a cardboard carrier, traditionally used for smaller breed dogs and miniature versions of animals such as dwarf rabbits. Fifty-cent piece holes had been chewed into the diameter of a porthole, reminiscent of my mother’s 1957 Ford Thunderbird. Thankfully, Butterscotch still couldn’t squeeze through the circular opening.

      Butterscotch was a gift to my daughter, Ava, who had survived the first week of kindergarten by crying only four of the five days. My husband, Mike and I told her that we would buy the pet of her choice if

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