So this week, I’m trying something new, after being invited by author Lisabet Sarai to join in a bit of good work! Each participating author will identify a charity they wish to benefit, and then pledges to donate a certain amount of money to their charity for each comment made by a reader.
Furever Friends is a cat rescue organization in Asheville, NC. I have fostered–and foster
failed!– for them, and in fact, have my dear Daisy Mae, Reba and Clarice all thanks to them.
Fortunately, I’ve passed on more kittens than I’ve kept to great furever homes, and I am so pleased to be able to work with Pam and Glynn Lookabill and the other volunteers.
Kitten season is coming up, however, and they will need a new influx of cash for the rounds and rounds of bottle babes, kittens and mommas that will come through their doors.
So as a result, I will donate $5 for each comment made as part of this blog hop to Pam and her group.
If you, too, love kitties and want to help out, contact Pam at fureverfriends at bellsouth dot net, and she can give you all the particulars!
Now for the entertainment part of the post, here is a blurb and excerpt from THE LOST CHORD, a YA fantasy from Dragonfly Publishing with Bee Warrick, a girl on the autism spectrum, as a heroine!
A poisonous wave is spreading disease and discord across the eleven known universes. Seven special people, known as Keys, must strike the Lost Chord in order to restore the balance. Among those Keys is Bee Warrick, an autistic teenager from Earth who has traveled between the realms for years without realizing it. Can Bee help the Conductor find the other Keys before a bitter enemy strikes the wrong chord and shatters the universes?
Halfway through, her brother Reese barged in. The tall, broad-built boy plopped down on her bright pink bedspread and dropped his football helmet on the floor, where it rolled in a circle before coming to a stop.
Bee jumped and covered her ears to protect herself from the sound.
“Hey there little SPED girl. I see Mom isn’t riding you about your homework.” He glared at her. “Must be nice to be autistic.”
“I’m not stupid like you.” Bee knew Reese wasn’t supposed to call her names. Mom had told him often enough, ever since she was little. But he never stopped, so now she called them back.
She wasn’t sure exactly what ‘autistic’ was supposed to be; she’d read about it in books. She was just what she was, not some word that started with A. Her favorite book was Songs of the Gorilla Nation, about a woman with autism who’d learned to communicate with gorillas.
At least gorillas didn’t make fun of you, she thought.
“Stupid is as stupid does.”
Reese twisted up his face at her. He had the same auburn hair as Bee, a color received from their father’s genes. She hardly remembered their father. He came and took Reese away every other weekend. He never took her. She didn’t even bother to go to the window and look at him any more.
“Bzzzzzzz,” she said, annoyed and wishing he’d go away.
“You know that’s so damn lame. Knock it off. People talk about you at school. SPED.”
Bee knew that term was derogatory by the tone of Reese’s voice, though she couldn’t understand why it was bad. ‘Special’ was something that was extra good. So special education should be something really great, like a Christmas present.
Besides she wasn’t in specials any more. Just speech. Her classes were regular, just like everyone else, and she finally didn’t have a TSS following her everywhere.
Ever since she could remember, she’d been in therapy—occupational therapy, where she’d swung in a net and glued letters on paper; hippotherapy, where she rode and cared for horses at a local farm (she’d liked that); and de-sensitizing therapy, when her mother had scrubbed her body with a surgical sponge for 15 minutes at a time several times a day (she’d hated that).
The longest had been speech therapy, where she’d struggled to learn language, a process that was short-circuited somewhere in her brain. So much didn’t make sense.
Like special education.
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Remember when Bob Barker closed out every episode of THE PRICE IS RIGHT by exhorting his viewers to spay and neuter their pets?
So my readers may have noticed I’ve taken on a new cause– helping shelter kitties. (see THE TROUBLE WITH CATS, above) Asheville in general is a serious spay and neuter territory, but all the same, spring into summer is called “kitten season” for good reason. Here’s a graphic that shows exactly why it’s a problem:
Do you have the money to pay for 2 million cats–food, water, vet, toys, litter, etc? Well, neither do the shelters, even with foster parents, even with adoption events, even with the resources they can beg borrow and steal.
So PLEASE. Take care of your pets and also let the local feral cat colony specialist know about wandering kitties. They will trap, neuter and release, to help keep down the number of kitties who may eventually end up being euthanized because there is just no one left who can take them.