Kathy Manos Penn's Blog, page 2

Puddin’s Take on Nala the Cat

Wow! Mum read an awesome book about a cat who’s on a ‘round the world trip with a guy on a bicycle. I’m not sure I want to travel on a bicycle—or at all—but it’s a grand adventure story. And it’s not fiction. It’s true.

Nala was a tiny kitten, when Dean, a cyclist from Scotland, found her on the side of a mountain road in Bosnia, at least ten miles from the nearest town. He couldn’t believe it when what he thought might be a squeak in his rear wheel turned out to be a kitten meowing. How could she have turned up on a mountain road in the middle of nowhere?

Well, I can answer that question. Someone in a pickup truck threw me into a bush in midtown Atlanta when I was a “wee thing” as Dean would say. I bet that’s what happened to Nala, whom Dean named for the lioness in “The Lion King.”

What a lucky kitty. Not only did Dean hear her, but he also decided to take her along on his journey. He left Scotland, determined to cycle around the world with a friend. When his friend bailed on him, he went his merry way alone. Finding Nala meant he had a new companion. Maybe you’ve seen the video of their adventure on the youtube video posted by Dodo. If you haven’t, you don’t know what you’re missing.

Yes, Nala, is lucky, but so is Dean. He says she’s given him a new outlook on life, and their relationship has changed him. I think all cats can have a positive influence on their peeps, given a chance, but this tale is an exceptional example of the power of one tiny kitty.

Dean and Nala sleep most nights in a tent, and Nala loves it.  Again, I might like spending a bit of time playing in a tent, but every night? No way. I like my beds.  The more Mum read, the more I learned about all the accouterments Nala has. She has toys and a harness and a pet carrier for the back of the bike, though she prefers riding up front on the handlebars where she can keep an eye on Dean and take in the scenery. The first day, she left the bike bag, climbed up his arm to his shoulders, and wrapped herself around his neck.  How cute is that?

When she developed a chest cold after the two were caught in a downpour, they spent three weeks in a hostel instead of a tent so she could recover, and she enjoyed that too. She’s quite a hit, not only with people the two encounter on the journey but also on Instagram and YouTube. Dean has GoPro camera plus a drone with a camera and is forever posting photos of their adventures.

Mum says she was skeptical about how good the book would be, but it turned out she couldn’t put it down.  Well, I could have told her that would be the case. What’s not to love about a book with a cat in it? She enjoyed it so much, she now follows Nala and Dean on FaceBook at 1bike1world.  Yup, she’s hooked.

You know my Mum writes the Dickens & Christie cozy mystery series, and Christie, the sassy black cat in her books, rides in a backpack when her owner goes on walks. Thankfully, Mum hasn’t tried that with me. I’ve made it clear I’m happy observing the world from the screened porch and Dad’s lap. I’m a little worried, though, because Mum has a bicycle with a pouch on the front. Goodness knows what I’ll do if she gets the idea I need a bicycle ride. Repeat after me, “No bike, no way.”

Puddin’s Perspective on Christie the Cat

I’m not sure what the big deal is about the cat in Mum’s cozy mysteries. I mean, she’s just a plain old black cat. Big deal. She may be sleek and pretty, but she can’t possibly be as stunning as I am. After all, I’m a calico, and that’s about the most special kind of cat there is. Just because Christie can talk to her pet parent in the books doesn’t mean she’s any smarter than I am. I talk to Mum all the time. Is it my fault she can’t understand me?

The truth is Christie’s personality is patterned after mine. That’s right, she’s the make-believe version of me. Mum says I’m her muse when it comes to writing Christie’s dialogue and behavior. Goodness’ knows how Mum would know what to write if it weren’t for me. So, let’s talk about all the things I do that turn up in the Dickens & Christies cozy mystery series. 

First, like me, Christie has her very own desk drawer to curl up in. Mine has a purple towel tucked in the bottom of it.  The only problem is that lately, Mum’s been sticking other stuff in there too—small candles and boxes of notecards. I’m pretty talented at curling into a small ball, but soon there’ll be no room for me. Based on how feisty Christie is, I can’t see her putting up with a similar encroachment on her territory.

I’m also darned particular about how my food is served, as is Christie. I require that small dabs of wet food be placed in my dish. I take a few licks and sit back until Mum takes the fork and “fluffs” my food, as I call it. The food must be centered and fluffed before I’ll deign to touch it again. If fluffing is not done to my satisfaction, I leave the food behind for Banjo. Christie leaves it for Dickens, her canine companion. Those boys love our food.

Then there are the treats. Mum keeps mine in a container in the office, and there’s a small dish on the desk where she can dole them out for me. My dish has a black and white cat painted it. I haven’t heard of Christie having anything that special, though her treats are also dispensed in an office. Leaping on Mum’s desk and demanding my treats is a feat I perform several times a day. I meow at Mum until she gets the message and pours some in my dish. 

What happens if she doesn’t get the message? Why I get more demanding. I’ve even taken to reaching out my pretty white paw to pat Mum’s cheek until she does her job. Imagine her thinking that tapping on her keyboard or writing in her notebook is more important than feeding me. Pffft.

Like Christie, I’m also rather adept at cleaning Mum’s desk with the swipe of a paw. Not only do I clear it of pens, pencils, and paper clips, I once even knocked Alexa off—I got quite a scolding for that. Haven’t heard of Christie going that far. The other thing we two felines have in common is our sleep pattern. We both curl up in our Mums’ laps and sleep on their beds at night, and sleeping on dog beds is way better than sleeping on our own. 

Don’t tell my Mum, but I think it’s kind of cool to be the inspiration for a fictional cat. There’s only one major difference between me and Christie, and that’s her special backpack. Her Mum goes on walks and Christie rides in her backpack. I’m not at all sure I want to ride in a backpack, so I’ll leave that to my made-up counterpart. And now, I need a treat or two or three, and Christie probably does too.

Banjo’s Take on the Little Dickens

Since I’ve retired from writing books, Mum sometimes asks me to help her out.  She wanted to write a column about Dickens, the dog in her cozy mystery series, but she’s been too busy writing more and more books. I mean, can you believe the third one just came out and she’s already got another one ready?

She thought me writing about a dog would be right up my alley, and I agreed.  After all, Dickens is a smaller version of moi—and younger as Mum likes to remind me. He’s not any better looking, mind you, just smaller and younger. Now that we’ve got that straight, let me tell you more about him—the little Dickens.

My fans may recall that two of my great-grandparents were Great Pyrenees, and they were the Royal Dogs of France. That’s how I came to be known as Lord Banjo. Even though my fur is black, I’m a Pyr. Full-blooded Pyrs are white and weigh much more than I do.  I weighed in at 80 pounds when I first arrived here at the royal abode, but I’m down to around 60 now. Let me tell you, the first ten pounds were a struggle, but the next ten weren’t so hard.

Dickens is a Pyr, but the boy’s a dwarf Pyr. Sometimes it just happens that two Pyr parents have a dwarf puppy. Dickens weighs only 40 pounds, though some of the dwarves weigh a little more. Some are deaf too, but not Dickens.  He hears everything, and if you read Mum’s books, you know he can communicate with his owner.  That’s right, Leta understands him and vice versa. How cool is that?

Dickens has a great life in the Cotswolds, where Leta owns a cottage with a garden. He likes to roll in the grass and sniff around the stone wall that encloses it. He’s a big believer in corner-checking which is what he calls sniffing every inch of the wall. Leta lets him out to do that every morning. She tosses him a treat as he heads out the kitchen door and he goes to work. And like me, Dickens is a fiend for belly rubs. When anyone approaches him and leans down to pet him, he assumes the belly rub position. That little Dickens is a smart boy.

He enjoys his garden, but his favorite thing is visiting the donkeys.  He and Leta walk a mile down a country lane to see Martha and Dylan, and Leta takes carrots to feed ‘em. Those donkeys come running—well trotting—when they see them coming because they know Leta always has carrots in her pockets. They duck their heads down to touch Dickens, and he loves it.

Dickens and Leta are originally from Atlanta, and it had only been in the last few years that Leta could take him to sit outside at a restaurant. The Cotswolds are different, though. If you can believe it, Leta can take him into pubs—and some pubs have dog beds scattered around for dogs to snooze in. If he doesn’t go for a bed, he hangs out in front of one of the fireplaces or beneath the table. Leta has two friends who sneak him snacks.  She says they’re incorrigible because no matter what she says, they sneak him chunks of buns or chips or sometimes a bite of a burger.

She’s worried Dickens will turn into a little butterball, but they go on lots of long walks, so I think he’ll be okay. He also gets to go lots of places with Leta in her refurbished London taxi. He has a special harness in the back seat so he’s safe.

I think the boy has a wonderful life, and I’m just a teeny bit jealous. The part I’m not jealous of? He had to ride in the cargo hold of a jet to get to England—nine hours. My thoughts on that? No way, Jose. No one’s getting me on a plane. I’m staying right here in the royal abode. I can enjoy Dickens’s life vicariously by reading Mum’s books. And you can do the same. You can find Mum’s Dickens & Christie series on Amazon.

Tales of King Arthur

Are there any King Arthur fans out there? It was Mary Stewart’s King Arthur trilogy that hooked me when I was in high school.  I suspect “The Crystal Cave,” published in 1970, was one of the many books I snuck into class and read between the covers of textbooks. I had to wait until 1973 for the second book, “The Hollow Hills,” to come out, and  “The Last Enchantment” arrived in 1979.  Described as the Merlin trilogy, the books are told from his perspective.

I was surprised to find that Stewart had written two more in the series in 1983 and 1995.  Those will have to go on my library wish list ASAP. Before her King Arthur phase, Stewart was primarily a romantic thriller writer, and I have vague memories of reading her novels “Nine Coaches Waiting” and “My Brother Michael.”

As I was searching for details about my favorite books, I came across  a BookBub article, “17 Magical Books About the Legend of King Arthur.” I can’t claim to have read them all, but I’ve enjoyed quite a few. Of Stewart’s books, only “Crystal Cave” made the BookBub list.

Sir Thomas Malory’s “Le Morte d’Arthur”  is not on the list either, but it was his tales of Arthur, Launcelot, and Guinevere that became the foundation for all that followed. His compilation published in 1485 was translated from stories written in French and is surprisingly readable. I was well on the way to becoming a life-long King Arthur fan by the time I read it as an English major in college.

My enjoyment of Malory’s tales led me to T. H. White’s “The Once and Future King,” which is on the BookBub list. Published in 1958, it was the inspiration for the 1960 Broadway musical Camelot. I must have first seen the 1967 movie version on TV, and seeing Richard Harris reprise the role on stage is a cherished memory. Of course, I have the CD.

 “The Mists of Avalon” by Marion Zimmer Bradley made the list and is one of my favorites from the 80’s, probably because it was a retelling of the story from the female perspective. Reflecting on how much I enjoyed the novel reminds me that there was a 2001 TNT miniseries starring  , , and . 

My trip down memory lane surfaced three other King Arthur films I’ve seen. First is the 1963 Disney animated “Sword in the Stone,”  also based on T. H. White’s book.  Skip past Camelot, and I must admit a weakness for the 1995 movie “First Knight” starring Sean Connery as King Arthur and Richard Gere as Lancelot.  The 2004 “King Arthur” with Clive Owens and Keira Knightley was yet another fascinating retelling of the tale, this time with Arthur portrayed as a Roman officer.

Of the 17 books on the BookBub list, I found two to add to my To Be Read list. “The Forever King” trilogy is a modern fantasy tale of a young man who stumbles across an antique cup that turns out to be The Holy Grail. It even has an ex-FBI agent in it, a twist that makes it a perfect combo for this mystery addict.

Also on my list now is “The Queen of Camelot,” another retelling of Guinevere’s role in the rise and fall of Camelot.  I’m anticipating reading new books, watching old movies, and winding up in a King Arthur induced coma sometime soon.

Meet Leta Petkas Parker

This blog originally appeared on Dru’s Book Musings. Visit there to meet characters from other cozy mysteries and read reviews.

Hey there. I’m Leta Petkas Parker, and you can probably tell from my name that I’m Greek. Greek families love food and cooking—and eating, though I try to keep the eating part under control. At only 5’2”, I’d be a little butterball if I indulged as much I’d like to. Since I’ve retired to the Cotswolds from the States, my new friends have come to expect my Greek salad whenever they eat at my cottage—that and the occasional pan of pastitsio or spanakopita.

How did I get to England from my home in Atlanta? Tragically, my husband Henry died in an accident nearly two years ago. I threw myself back into my banking career, thinking the long hours and weekly business trips would chase the pain away. All that did was exhaust me.  What did the trick was my spur of the moment decision to retire to the Cotswolds, something I’d always dreamed of.

And here I am—living in a storybook cottage with my dog and cat Dickens and Christie, making new friends, and making my way. We three have a daily routine. Only after Christie gets her milk and Dickens visits the garden am I allowed to take my cup of coffee to our cozy sitting room. I get the fire going, read the paper, and play Words with Friends before I attack the day.

Okay, okay, I no longer work sixty-hour weeks, but I kept my side job writing columns after I moved “across the pond.” I love writing, and my readers tell me they enjoyhearing about life in the picturesque village of Astonbury. Back home, I wrote about the deer in the yard, fall festivals, trips to the mountains—whatever struck my fancy. Here, it’s trips to quaint villages, overnights to Oxford, and the joy of walking country lanes.

Several mornings a week, I take yoga at the Let It Be yoga studio on High Street, often with my friend Wendy.  Now that she’s retired from teaching high school English in the States—if you can believe it—she’s back here living with her mum, Belle. Nearly ninety-years-old, Belle is a pistol. The fascinating thing about Belle is that her mother knew J.M. Barrie, the person who wrote Peter Pan. They became friends when he summered in the Cotswolds.

That’s why Belle’s daughter is named Wendy, and her twin brother’s name is—you guessed it—Peter. It was Peter who told me I could buy a refurbished London taxi to drive around in, and that’s what I did.  How cool is that?

Wendy and I bonded right away over our love of books and shopping.  She’s not quite the word nerd I am, but we both attend the monthly book club meetings at the Book Nook. Between the yoga studio, the bookshop, and Toby’s Tearoom, we spend lots of time on High Street. Visiting the Tearoom is a must after yoga, as much for Toby’s to-die-for scones and muffins as for the tea and coffee.

Dickens and I walk almost every day, and our favorite destination is the pasture where we feed carrots to Martha and Dylan, the donkeys. When we’re up for a longer walk, we continue to the Olde Mill Inn, where I visit with my friends Libby and Gavin, and Dickens romps with their cat Paddington.  Dickens tells me his favorite pastime is diving in the pile of dirty linens with Paddington as the rooms are being changed out.

Did I mention that Dickens talks to me? And I understand him? Odd, I know, but I’ve been able to talk to the animals since I was a child. I also converse with my black cat, Christie—and my friends’ pets. Dickens is a happy go lucky little fellow. His feline sister? She’s sassy and persnickety, but I still love her. I’ve successfully kept my Dr. Dolittle talent to myself—can’t have my friends thinking I’m a crazy woman. Even Henry didn’t know about my strange ability.

Yes, I was living the dream . . . until Dickens and I stumbled across a dead body . . . of a friend

Who knew I had an inner Nancy Drew? Before I knew it, Wendy, Belle and I had embarked on solving a murder mystery. And, believe it or not, we solved it! Even we were surprised.

But that was a one-time thing—not something we planned to ever do again. And we meant it, really . . . until another dead body appeared . . . in our peaceful little village. Everyone thinks I’m the instigator, but honestly, Wendy ‘s hellbent to get involved, at the risk of once again irritating the heck out of Gemma, our local Detective-Sergeant. And Belle? Ever since she got a taste of playing Miss Marple, there’s been no stopping her.

Here we go again . . .

An evening with Louise Penny

Whenever I write about my favorite mystery authors, I mention Louise Penny so when I heard she was going to speak in Hickory, NC in March 2019, I immediately got tickets to see her. This was a chance to see a bestselling author whose books I treasure. It was well worth the drive and overnight stay, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

The auditorium at Lenoir Rhyne University was packed, and Penny was on stage for 90 minutes, presenting and fielding questions.   I was struck by how funny she is, given that her novels are serious character-driven mysteries. Her comedic timing and openness made for an engaging evening.  An example? She and her husband took the advance for her first book and went to lunch—at McDonald’s.

She described herself as a fearful child who liked to be in her room, alone, reading.  As you might expect, she was afraid of spiders, but what you wouldn’t expect is that it was while reading Charlotte’s Web that she realized she wanted to be a writer.  She was enjoying the story so much, she didn’t immediately realize that Charlotte was a spider, and was inspired by the power of writing, the power of words, to lift her fear.

Still, she had a fear of writing and for twenty years was a journalist with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation before she made the leap to writing fulltime.  She laughingly said she endured five years of writer’s block before completing her first novel, “Still Life,” book one in the Inspector Gamache series. That was in 2008, and she’ll publish book sixteen, “All the Devils are Here,” this September.

She credits her move from Montreal to a small village, much like the fictional village of Three Pines in her books, to helping her overcome her writer’s block. We all laughed when she told us she’d joined a ladies’ group called Les Girls who met weekly in the town’s bistro over café au lait and croissants.  To anyone who has read her books, that scene will be familiar.

In that group of creative ladies—painters, writers, sculptors—she learned that the creative process can involve starting, going back, going forward again, honing and shaping.  It was during that time that she had the aha to “write a book I would read.” As a writer and an avid reader, I was happy to hear her say, “Reading is as creative as writing; you must be a reader to be a good writer.”

Again, we all chuckled when she said that the first three places she put on the map of Three Pines were the book store, the bistro, and the bakery. She fielded questions about who inspired her various characters and shared the poignant fact that her husband whom she lost in 2016 was the inspiration for Inspector Gamache.

I found it both astounding and inspirational that she didn’t publish her first book until she was in her 40s. Her process? Once she sits down to write a book, she doesn’t stop until it’s done—no days off.  She sets herself a daily word count goal and writes until she reaches it. The next day, she polishes what’s she’s written and moves forward. Before she starts typing on day one, she’s already spent about a year jotting down ideas and has some sense of who did it and why—who committed the crime and why they did it.

The two of us who made the trip especially enjoyed meeting other fans in the auditorium and at our hotel.  One gentleman said he’d read the books four times.  Four times is a bridge too far for me, as I’m always thinking, “So many books, so little time,”  but still, I’m considering reading them all one more time. If you haven’t yet read Louise Penny, be sure to start with book one and be prepared to be hooked.

The Dreaming Spires of Oxford

This post originally appeared as a column in 2018 after a trip to England. If you’ve read Book One in the Dickens & Christie cozy mystery series, you may recognize some of the sights Leta and Wendy enjoyed.

As we continued our vacation in England, it was hard to imagine anything topping Dartmouth, Tintagel, and the Cotswolds, but Oxford may rank as my favorite spot in England. It’s not only compact and easy to navigate but also filled with charm and history at every turn.

Day one, we visited Blackwell’s BookShop, the oldest bookshop in Oxford.  Naturally, we had lunch next door at the White Horse Pub, the scene of many an  Inspector Morse and Lewis adventure.

The day was warm and sunny, perfect for a pre-dinner riverboat cruise on the River Thames or River Isis, as it’s called in Oxford. We walked to Folly Bridge where we boarded our boat, sipped prosecco, and listened to history and literary trivia shared by our captain. The Grandpont House on the river, for example, was the home of an Oxford tailor who owned a hat shop on High Street in the 1800s and may have been the inspiration for Lewis Carroll’s Mad Hatter. 

We glimpsed Iffley Village, founded in 1086, and sailed through one of the 45 locks on the River Thames, complete with the lock house cat peering at us. Returning upstream, we saw the Oxford rowing clubs on the bank and several teams practicing, a sight that reminded us of the many British films and television shows that feature rowing competitions.

We noticed the club named Endeavor and were intrigued to hear that Colin Dexter had taken that as Inspector Morse’s first name after glimpsing it written on the side of the building.

Day two dawned with a downpour, and I was happy I’d scheduled a Bodleian Library tour for the morning.  The information about books, history, and architecture was spellbinding. With 12 million titles, the Bodleian is the largest university library in the world, larger than those of Harvard, Yale, or Cambridge. Intended for academic research, it is purely a reading—not a lending–library.

I learned that a quarter-million of its titles were produced before 1400 and that countries have been sending their libraries here for safekeeping since as long ago as Central Europe’s Thirty Years’ War in the 1600s.

The introduction in the Divinity School allowed time to admire the door designed by architect Christopher Wren and the awe-inspiring 15th century carved ceiling.  The building served as the Hogwarts infirmary and dancing school in the Harry Potter films. We sat in the University Court, where Oscar Wilde was tried in 1888 for failing to pay his tailor bill. It was almost too much to absorb.

For lunch, a savory chicken pie in the Covered Market revived us before we briefly wandered the shops and discovered the Hat Box where I had to buy a red beret. 

The entertaining Inspector Morse, Lewis and Endeavor walking tour, chosen because we regularly watch these PBS shows, was a treat despite the rain. Who knew that Inspector Morse’s Jaguar had no wheels and never really moved? Visits to shops, colleges, and pubs where TV scenes were filmed were combined with trips to chapels and other historic landmarks such as St. John’s and Exeter Colleges and the student union whose invited speakers have been famous, erudite, or both—think Monica Lewinsky, Johnny Depp, and Nelson Mandela.

The highlight of our two days had to be the twilight visit to the Varsity Club’s rooftop bar. There are simply no words to describe the breathtaking view of the “city of dreaming spires,” so dubbed by Victorian writer Matthew Arnold. If I’m ever fortunate enough to return to England, another trip to Oxford will be a must.

The Wonders of Dartmouth

I wrote this blog after my first visit to England. Many of the sights mentioned here are included in PUMPKINS, PAWS & MURDER. Can you pick them out?

***

As an Anglophile through and through, I’d long dreamed of visiting England. I knew that when I finally made my trip of a lifetime, I wanted to see more than London, but identifying additional destinations and working out travel details seemed a daunting task. Fortunately, I found Danielle Garrett of PlanIt Itineraries, who not only planned an amazing three-week itinerary but also attended to every little detail. I describe her as my travel planner extraordinaire.

After some time in London, our first stop was Dartmouth, a coastal town rich in history. From our several ferry trips on the Dart River, we gleaned fascinating facts from all eras. As we watched cadets from the Royal Britannia Naval College practice man overboard rescues, we learned Queen Elizabeth met Prince Phillip at the college in 1939 when she visited with her parents. On the way to tour Agatha Christie’s Greenway Estate, we saw a boathouse that once belonged to Sir Walter Raleigh–its original foundation still intact.

We glimpsed the shipyard where 240 warships were built during WWII and a much smaller shipyard where the Mayflower and the Speedwell stopped for repairs in1620 before proceeding to Plymouth to set sail for America. The Speedwell was deemed unfit for the trip leaving the Mayflower to make the trip solo.

One ferry captain alleged that Eisenhower had planned the D-Day invasion in the ferryman’s house across from our hotel, but I’ve been unable to confirm that particular “fact.” From a Kate Ellis book I was reading while there, I learned the story of Slapton Sands, a nearby town whose townfolks were forced to abandon their town and their livelihoods so rehearsals for D-Day could take place. As heartwrenching as that was, more tragic was the loss of 1,000 American soldiers in Exercise Tiger, a nighttime practice for a beach landing. By chance, German E boats came across the American convoy, killing 700 men before another 300 died from friendly fire as they landed on the beach.

We wandered the streets of Dartmouth and visited St. Savior’s Church which has a timber from a Spanish Armada ship as one of its beams. We ordered pints of cider in The Cherub Pub, the oldest building in town, circa 1380. I found it interesting that this small town boasts two bookshops, and that Christopher Milne, the real Christopher Robin from “Winnie the Pooh,  once owned a bookshop on the street that fronts the harbor.

On a scenic round-robin excursion—ferry, bus, steam train, and one last ferry back to our hotel—we heard the tale of the entrepreneur who planned in the 1850s to build a railroad bridge across the River Dart and built the Dartmouth station before obtaining permission for the bridge.  Today, the station stands by itself unconnected to a railroad because he never got that permission; thus you depart the train across the river and ferry back to Dartmouth.

Our most memorable excursion was a day trip to Tintagel, the castle in Cornwall where legend says King Arthur was conceived. Our route across windswept misty Dartmoor, populated only with sheep and ponies, brought to mind gothic novels. With a guide to explain the history, we made the arduous climb to the cliffside castle where we found unbelievable views and a team of archaeologists excavating medieval pottery brought by Mediterranean traders.

The trip was already everything I could have wanted, and we were only halfway through. Next up was the Cotswolds.

A visit to the Cotswolds

I wrote this blog after my first visit to England.  Many of the sights mentioned here wind up in my books, sometimes with different names. Can you pick them out?

***

I don’t know why, but when I dreamed of visiting England,
the Cotswolds were always a must-see. With that goal I mind, we spent six
nights in a quintessential Cotswold B&B, where Alan, the owner anticipated
our every need.

The Fieldways Inn in Cold Aston—with its conservatory, garden, sheep, friendly donkeys Martha and Dylan, and Paddington the cat—was the perfect setting for unwinding after a train ride from Dartmouth. Our dinner the first night was an easy stroll away at the village pub, The Plough.     

There, we could get simple
pub fare or something fancier.  We loved the atmosphere of a pub filled with
dogs, many resting in the several dog beds
provided, and returned several times.

We’d planned to spend day two relaxing in the garden, but
after breakfast and a visit with the donkeys, our innkeeper Alan chauffeured us
to Bourton-on-the Water, dubbed the Venice of the Cotswolds because of the
meandering River Windrush in its
midst.  We explored and had the requisite
fish and chips. We were soon to discover that Alan wasn’t taking any chances on
our being bored and was ready with options for any day we didn’t already have
planned.

Day three we enjoyed a breathtakingly scenic drive with
Cotswolds Adventures. We visited too many to name villages, all with stories to
tell.  We learned J.M. Barrie had donated
a cricket pavilion to the village of Stanway. We climbed the Broadway Tower,
the highest point in the Cotswolds. It was built in the late 1700s as a folly, a building meant primarily as decoration. We
heard about the celebrated and sometimes scandalous Mitford sisters of Batsford and were regaled with stories of
their eccentricities.

The Cotswolds were renowned for their wool in the Middle
Ages, and Stow-on-the-Wold, one of
several Cotswold Wool towns, is marked by small alleys used to herd the sheep to the square on market days. A visit to St. Edward’s
Church just off the square revealed a fairytale back door flanked by two yew
trees, a sight thought to have inspired Tolkien’s design for the
entrance to Moria.

Upper and Lower Slaughter were our last and possibly most
picturesque stops. We discovered that Upper Slaughter is one of only thirteen
Doubly Thankful villages in the UK, villages who lost not a single man in WWI
or WWII. 

A cycling tour of the Windrush Valley was also on our
schedule. Again, we marveled at storybook villages of cottages built with honey-colored Cotswold stone and the occasional
thatched-roof.

In a day full of surprises—we
had no idea of the itinerary beyond its distance
of 20 miles—the ruins of Minster Lovell Hall and its intact Dovecote
were a special treat. We lunched at The
Swan Inn in Swinbrook once owned by the last remaining Mitford sister, Dowager
Duchess of Devonshire. Doesn’t that sound Downtown Abbeyish?

After a few more hills than I would have wished for, we ended
in Burford with scones and coffee before venturing into the Mad Hatter, a
bookshop that sells hats or vice versa. As was becoming our custom, we ended
our day relaxing with a glass of wine, feeding carrots to the donkeys, and
petting Paddington. 

Less strenuous was our visit to Blenheim Palace where we especially
enjoyed the Churchill exhibit topped off with
a stop at Churchill’s grave in a nearby village. It was our innkeeper Alan who
added that special touch to the day.

Let there be no doubt I highly recommend a trip to the Cotswolds and a stay at Fieldways
Inn. 

Dickens the Dog

In my cozy mystery series, the main character owns a Great Pyrenees named Dickens, but not just any Pyr. Hers is a dwarf, and they do exist, just not in great numbers. You can’t go out and find one at a pet store or at a breeder’s. They’re anomalies, so to speak.

Because my dog Banjo is part Pyr, I’ve grown to love the breed’s temperament, and I’ve learned a lot about their traits. Banjo may weigh only 70 pounds and have a black coat instead of a white one, but his personality is pure Pyr. As I thought about my book, I knew I wanted a dog and a cat as sidekicks for my character, and I thought, “Why not a Great Pyrenees?” That way, I could use Banjo as the model for the fictional dog’s shenanigans.

Banjo

The answer to that question is they’re just too darned big. My book is set in the Cotswolds, and I wanted Leta, the protagonist, to be able to take her dog everywhere she went by train or by car. At 140 pounds, a full-bred Great Pyrenees seemed a bit too much to handle. What about a mini-GP? I thought. And that’s how I discovered there’s no such thing. There are miniature poodles and mini-doodles, but no mini-Pyrs. I did, however, stumble across the existence of dwarf Great Pyrenees.

Breeders don’t set out to breed smaller Great Pyrenees, but occasionally a dwarf Pyr is born from a healthy set of parents. In years past, these smaller dogs were hidden or culled so as not to pass on the dwarfism gene. Today, most of them are neutered instead.

Everything I read about these smaller versions of the majestic breed made me smile. They range in size from 13” to 18” at the shoulder and can weigh 35 – 50 pounds. Some of the dwarfs have hearing problems or are completely deaf. I had to laugh at one owner who said he wasn’t sure whether his little one was hard of hearing or simply had the breed’s tendency toward selective hearing. Banjo has that tendency, and he’s only part Pyr.

As you might expect, they can also have skeletal and/or joint issues, but then so do many labs and goldens and other large breeds. I’ve read everything I can find about these small dogs, but I don’t pretend to understand the science behind the study underway to determine the cause of dwarfism in Pyrs. I’ve been more interested in the unbelievably cute photos I’ve found on Facebook.

I corresponded with one or two of the owners on Facebook and was able to get permission to use a photo of one little guy as the model for Dickens. His name is Bailey, and I think he’s unbelievably precious. Naturally, in my book, Dickens is a huge hit. Everyone who meets him recognizes he must be a Great Pyrenees, and then they wonder how he can be so tiny. Is it any wonder that Dickens has a bit of a complex about his size and is quite sensitive about “small” comments?

And yes, in case you’re wondering, Dickens talks to Leta a la Dr. Dolittle, but she’s the only one who can understand him. He’s a happy go lucky little guy who likes everyone he meets, and he adores long walks and car rides and belly rubs. I did mention he has Banjo’s personality, right?