For anyone who ever loved a fur baby, Tail Wags and Whiskers chronicles the love, laughs, and four-legged lawlessness that comes from a lifetime with cats and dogs.
Heart-warming, funny, and often poignant, Tail Wags and Whiskers shares how animals come into our lives, not only teaching resilience, patience, and fortitude, but also marking the passage of time. Pet lovers will adore these delightful stories as they read about:
- Callie, the adorable kitten that taught one of life’s biggest lessons
- Ren, the chihuahua who exemplified loyalty—to an exhausting degree
- Floyd, the tuxedo cat who liked to wander, sometimes a little too far
- Simon, the “quirky mutt” who became the neighborhood’s most notorious escape artist
- Rocky, the beautiful, but mysterious feline “movie star”
- Libby, the tumultuous terrier who pushed everyone to their limits—and beyond
Part memoir, part unintended instruction manual, Tail Wags and Whiskers is often funny, sometimes touching, but always tender and uplifting. Following a forty-year marriage and the pets present throughout, it’s a story of love, loss, and the hope it sometimes takes to begin again.
Reviews
“What appeals about Stone’s gentle, humorous memoir is her empathy with the parade of endearing and sometimes maddening fur-babies who have traipsed through her life, to the detriment of her sofas and the enrichment of her heart.”
– The Booklife Prize
“I have been reading Laurie Stone’s blogs for years and each makes me giggle , shed tears and feel so fulfilled. Just the right amount of everything!! Thank you for this delightful read and thank you for rescuing!”
– Amazon Review
“Absolutely loved this book about pets and the way they bring family together. It was endearing, funny, and beautifully written. I was totally hooked, laughing and tearing up from cover to cover. A must-read for any fan of cats and dogs!”
– Amazon Review
Excerpt
I must admit I worried since I had heard most kittens were born in spring and summer and this was a chilly December day in Connecticut, 1980. Despite wanting to stay calm as I gazed into the pet store window, my palms sweated, and I swallowed hard. I’m just getting a cat, I told myself, not having a human baby, God forbid. At twenty-three, the thought of two-legged parenthood was out of the question. Even four-legged gave me pause. Was I ready to take care of a little creature and be responsible for its every morsel of food and safety? Was I ready to give it the attention and love it needed after coming home tired from my office job each day? While growing up, my family had tons of pets, but the feed and upkeep had always been my parents’ domain. Was I ready now for the big time?
My other concern was Randy.
“I don’t want to deal with litter boxes and Meow Mix,” he’d said when I’d recently brought up the subject of adopting a feline. My tall, thin, dark-haired, and usually laid-back husband loved our DINK life- style (dual income, no kids) and that excluded furry, four-legged children. “Everything’s perfect,” he’d said, looking around our apartment, situated on the bottom floor of a two-family house in Fairfield, a college town about an hour from New York City. “Animals are work. Why change everything?”
“First, everything wouldn’t change,” I countered. “It’s just a cat. You won’t have to do a thing.”
He rolled his eyes. “Famous last words.”
“Can I help you?” asked the gray-haired woman as I walked into the pet store. She smiled and had a round, kind face. Parakeets squawked in the back- ground. The air carried that cedar-chip smell I remembered from childhood hamsters.
“Do you have kittens?”
She pointed to the back of the shop. “Cats, over there.”
I walked past puppies, guinea pigs, and ferrets and had that sad feeling I always did whenever I passed animals in cages. Inside one of the last ones on the floor, I discovered three kittens, each about eight weeks old, all heart-meltingly tiny and precious.
They tumbled over to inspect me as I knelt and placed my finger on the metal bars. One came right up, a fluffy grayish-brown tabby with a brown nose, white whiskers, and gold eyes. She nuzzled her face against my skin. For some reason, maybe because she looked so dainty, I assumed she was female, and she was the most adorable, beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Want to hold that one?” asked the saleslady, who had followed. She opened the cage and brought out this tiny ball of fluff, placing her in my hands. Kitten gazed at me with gold eyes shimmering, and I was a goner. She felt like a feather and instantly clambered onto my shoulder, nuzzling against my neck with a soft, rumbly purr.
“Is it a girl?” I asked, trying not to laugh as kitty’s whiskers tickled my ear.
The woman lifted the cat’s tail and inspected. “Yup, female.”
I took a deep breath. I could walk away, but I’d be back, probably tomorrow. And what if this kitty was gone? “I’ll take her.”
The lady nodded and smiled, no doubt thinking I’d been the easiest sale of the week. She disappeared into the back. While we waited, kitten played with my hair, the rumble of her purring growing louder. She nuzzled my face with her tiny paws wrapped around my hands, as if making sure I wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t bear to look back at her two littermates left behind. I told myself someone would adopt them too.
The woman returned with a cardboard box lined with newspaper. “You can put her in here while I ring you up.”
That day, I bought a litter box, litter, food, and at the last minute, a few toys, including one that looked like a mini feather duster. I walked to the car with my supplies and newest purchase. A soft snow began, the first of the year—a good omen, I thought. In just minutes, it seemed to blanket everything.
