Author: Peg Kehret

My author copies of Ghost Dog Secrets arrived today. It is always a thrill to finally hold the finished book in my hands. Now I have the fun of giving copies to my family and to anyone who helped me with research. The official release date is Sept. 2.

On Sunday I was the speaker at a state-wide gathering of polio survivors. There were about 90 in attendance and I had a chance to chat with many of them before and after my talk. It is unusual to be with a group who all understand exactly what polio is, as well as the effects of post-polio syndrome (PPS). I felt a sense of community – the kind you get at a large family reunion. We came from different backgrounds but we shared an experience that was central in our lives.

Despite the abundance of new weakness, swallowing difficulties, fatigue, and other PPS symptoms, these folks were upbeat. Polio had not defeated them the first time around, and it isn’t going to beat them now, either.

I bought a trail camera. It’s motion-activated and I set it to take two-minute videos whenever something moves in front of it. I’ve had it on my front porch for two days, aimed at Mr. Stray’s food station. That porch is a lot busier at night than I had realized!

Mr. Stray comes to eat, and so does Woody, the feral cat who lived temporarily in my foster cat room. Dillon, a cat who lives next door, shows up for snacks, and cat food is greedily gobbled by a pair of blue jays.  Not just the dry cat food, either. Those blue jays eat tuna! There are so many comings and goings at that cat food station that the memory card in the camera fills up in less than twenty-four hours. I enjoy watching the animals, and I plan to mount the camera in other places around my property to see if I can film some of the wildlife.

I’m doing lots of reading this summer. Much of it is research for a nonfiction book that I’m working on, but some is fiction. Currently I’m reading the 44 Scotland Street series by Alexander McCall Smith. Reading those novels is much like watching the films captured by my trail camera. I get small, intimate glimpses into the lives of his characters.

My granddaughter, Brett, visited the national library of Egypt last week. When she went in the youth department, she looked to see if they had any of my books, and found a copy of Nightmare Mountain. 

A distant cousin let me know she buys my books in Paris, where she lives.

A chapter from Five Pages a Day: A Writer’s Journey is being included in Houghton Mifflin’s new reading textbook for Grade 5, in both the Spanish edition and the English edition that’s used in the United Kingdom and British Commonwealth. It’s the chapter about my Dog Newspaper.

The only countries besides my own that I’ve visited are Canada and Mexico, so it is exciting to think that my books are being read on other continents.

I received a royalty check yesterday for “Cemeteries Are a Grave Matter,” a one-act play that I published more than thirty years ago. The statement showed where the play had been produced in the last year, and one production was in a town close enough to where I live that, had I known about it, I would have attended.

This has happened many times with my plays; I find out about the show after the production is over, when it’s too late for me to go. Even though this play has been produced every year, some years many times, I have never seen a production of it! I have never seen two of my other plays, either.

My granddaughter, Brett, is on a Semester at Sea study/cruise this summer, and I’m having a grand time following her adventures. I check her itinerary each morning and when she sends an email, telling about specific places, I go to Google Images and find pictures of them. Her vivid descriptions plus the photos make me feel as if I’m experiencing the trip with her. Most recently I’ve imagined riding the chair lift on the Isle of Capri, visiting the Duomo Dome in Florence, Italy, and strolling around Mykonos Island. When she mentioned the name of a hostel where she’d spent one night, I was able to find a web site and see photos of that, too.

This kind of vicarious experience is what I strive for when I write fiction. I hope my readers will have pictures in their minds of the action and setting, and, through my words, will feel the hopes, fears, excitement and other emotions of the characters. If I do my job well enough, readers will feel as if they’ve taken that particular journey themselves.

Here’s an excerpt from a letter sent by a ten-year-old fan:

“I wish I could have a cat but my dad is allergic to them. I told my mom that there is a house for sale next to us and that he could move next door and we could get a cat. My mom said no.”

The road in front of my house is being repaved today, so I can’t leave my driveway from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. This has me imagining many what-if situations.

What if I break a leg and the aid car has to park half a mile away? What if the deer walk across the road before it’s set, and get stuck? What if a friend calls in distress, asking for help?  What if a small plane makes a crash-landing in my back yard?  What if there is a death in the family and I must get to the airport? What if Mt. Rainier erupts and I have to evacuate? What if one of my animals has a medical problem and needs to go to the vet?

That last one isn’t so far-fetched. I have already made two trips to the 24-hour emergency veterinary clinic in Sumner this week. On Sat. Anne was here when her dog, Otter, began yipping in pain every so often for no apparent reason. Otter was diagnosed with a pulled muscle in her neck. Pain pills and muscle relaxants solved the problem.

The very next day, I had to take Lucy to the same clinic. We had been outside when she began wheezing and hacking as if she had eaten grass (or ?) and had it stuck in her throat. I had dinner guests but it’s hard to serve a meal and carry on a conversation when a dog is gagging and choking every few minutes so my friends went home and off I went to the emergency vet. These things always seem to happen at a time when my regular veterinary clinic, which is much closer, isn’t open.  Lucy’s being treated with an anti-inflammatory medication and with a liquid that coats and soothes her throat. My regular vet saw her on Monday, and she will be fine.

Two veterinary emergencies in two days were hard on my nerves. I’m glad I was able to get out of my driveway over the weekend.

I’ve lived in the log cabin for eleven years, and last night I added a new animal to the list of critters who share my property. On Sunday evening, I was on the nature trail when I saw a mountain beaver! Anne was with me, and so was our friend, Cheryl. None of us knew what the animal was but we got a close, long look at him, and as soon as we got back to the house, I began searching on line.  Eventually I found a photo of a mountain beaver, and there is no doubt that this is what we saw on the trail. It is exciting to discover yet another creature who has made my small sanctuary his home.

 Many years ago, Carl received a gift from some player piano customers who felt he’d given them exceptional service. They contacted our daughter to find out the names of our grandchildren and what the grandkids called us, and then they made a beautiful picture frame, with room for four 5X7 photos. Across the top it says, “Moonie and Papa’s treasures.” (Yes, the grandkids call me Moonie.) Under the photo spaces are the four names: Brett, Chelsea, Eric, Mark.

As soon as the frame arrived we put pictures of the grandkids in it and hung it in our home. Over the years, every time we got new school pictures, we updated the frame. What a wonderful gift this has been! It now holds three high school graduation photos and will get the fourth one next year. I plan to let those by the final four pictures.

The frame hangs where I see it many times each day, and it always makes me smile.