How to Hug a Baby.. Animal Magnetism..... Just got this email in..... Hollywood Shorthand..
Contents:
How to Hug a Baby
Instructions for properly hugging a baby: 1. First, uh, find a baby.
2. Second, be sure that the object you found was indeed a baby by employing classic sniffing techniques.
3. Next you will need to flatten the baby before actually beginning the hugging process...
4. The 'paw slide'
Simply slide paws around baby and prepare for possible close-up.
5. Finally, if a camera is present, you will need to execute the difficult and patented 'hug, smile, and lean' so as to achieve the best photo quality.
Any questions? No? good. You're all set. Now go hug a baby.
Animal Magnetism...
Today I took a walk after lunch and had quite the visitor waiting for me outside of my office building in downtown Chicago. A duck. That's right a duck. Now if it looks like a duck, acts like a duck, and quacks like a duck...it is a duck.
This guy was gorgeous with a capital "G." Bright green head, beautiful feathers, and an attitude to boot. Since I'd had a pita sandwich, I ran up to my office to grab some food for the guy. And he ate it right out of my hand! This mallard was not shy by any means.
It's kind of a gloomy day, and I spent about fifteen minutes watching the faces of the usually frowning passerbys...smile.
Question 1: If you knew a woman who was pregnant, who had 8 kids already, three who were deaf, two who were blind, one mentally retarded, and she had a severe medial issue, would you recommend that she terminate her pregnancy?
Read the next question before looking at the response for this one.
Question 2: It is time to elect a new world leader, and only your vote counts. Here are the facts about the three candidates.
Who would you vote for?
Candidate A. Associates with crooked politicians, and consults with astrologist He's had two mistresses. He also chain smokes and drinks 8 to 10 martinis a day.
Candidate B. He was kicked out of office twice, sleeps until noon, used opium in college and drinks a quart of whiskey every evening.
Candidate C. He is a decorated war hero. He's a vegetarian, doesn't smoke, drinks an occasional beer and never cheated on his wife.
Which of these candidates would be your choice? Decide first... no peeking, then scroll down for the response.
Candidate A is Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Candidate B is Winston Churchill.
Candidate C is Adolph Hitler.
And, by the way, on your answer to the abortion question: If you said YES, you just killed Beethoven. Just goes to show ya- never judge a book by its cover.
Hollywood Shorthand
My novel and screenplay, SURVIVAL OF THE WEIRDEST, is Narnia meets Hoot meets Dr. Doolittle meets James Bond.
Yep, it's all that...and a bag of chips.
Now about the screenplay, I wrote the screenplay as I wrote the novel. It's like that chicken-egg-chicken thang. Some stuff I didn't use in the book, I used in the novel, and vice-versa. The common thread they share? I'm building a world and bringing it to life.
Guess who I saw at the park today???
It's a gorgeous day here in the windy city and I decided to take Ike, my big black lab, to Lincoln Park this morning. So we were walking by the duck pond, and I heard a very familiar, and very loud melody, and I looked up into a tree...
Well, lo and behold, a bright red bird was yapping away--almost yelling at me! Cardinal Rich? I'd like to think so.
I'm taking this, like the earthquake, as another positive sign. My middle grade adventure, SURVIVAL OF THE WEIRDEST, begins in Lincoln Park...by the duck pond...with a bright red cardinal.
Couldn't they have called in a specialist? Don't they know about tranquilizer guns? A 150-pound cougar was gunned down by Chicago police Monday after it was loose in a residential area on the city's North Side.
Several residents reported seeing the cat early Monday and the officer shot the animal in an alley. Although rare, cougars (also known as pumas and mountain lions) have been sighted in Illinois...in urban, well populated areas.
Last year, a young wily coyote, roughly a year-and-a-half old (who animal control named Adrian) had quite the adventure in Chicago's Loop.
A six-year study into habitats of urban coyotes, sponsored by Cook County's Department of Animal Control has produced surprising results. When the study began, it was expected to find the canines confined to large parks or forest preserves. But...it seems that there is at least one pack of coyotes living right downtown, and there may be thousands of coyotes residing in the Chicagoland area.
Of course, it's a bit odd that a coyote would seek refuge in a Quiznos sandwich shop, but that's what Adrian did, strolling east on Adams in the post-lunch crowd. He walked in the front door that had been propped open because of the warm weather.
For 40 minutes, he sat there quite passive -- next to the Gatorade -- a sort of odd celebrity, as dozens of passersby came to see the coyote who came to dinner and take pictures with their cell phones. Imagine what Mr. Coyote thought about all this attention.
Adrian, unlike the poor cougar, was captured by animal control and released into the wild.
Why I like Brian from family guy... What's not to like about a martini drinking dog? Now if only I could teach Ike, my 10-year old black lab, to shake one up for me...
it's been a long week.
(I had to add something to make me smile after hearing about the post below...)
NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART...
I just got an email from a co-worker...and now I'm in tears. This is so appalling, well...please read on.
This is a very serious matter...
In 2007, the 'artist' Guillermo Vargas Habacuc, took a dog from the street, tied him to a rope in an art gallery, and starved him to death. On the walls, phrases written with dog food!
For several days, the 'artist' and the visitors of the exhibition have watched emotionless the shameful 'masterpiece' based on the dog's agony, until eventually he died.
Does it look like art to you?
But wait, there's more... the prestigious Visual Arts Biennial of the Central American decided that the 'installation' was actually art, and Guillermo Vargas Habacuc has been invited to repeat his cruel action for the biennial of 2008.
It will only take 30 seconds to save the life of another innocent creature.
My thoughts: We should tie him up and watch his agony. (And the people that witnessed this installation). Where is the humanity?
Recent visitors to this blog... My stat tracker allows me to map where visits originate from, which I find pretty interesting. Trish, my absolutewrite.com friend, is that you visiting me from Australia?
Holy quacamole, earthquake!
That's right friends; today there was an earthquake in the Chicagoland area measuring 5.2 on the Richter scale. The quake shook skyscrapers in Chicago's Loop, 230 miles north of the epicenter, and in downtown Indianapolis, about 160 miles northeast of the epicenter. And I'm psyched.
Most people don't know that Illinois sits on a major fault line- The New Madrid Fault Line to be exact. Which is why in my fantastical adventure, SURVIVAL OF THE WEIRDEST, the kid's journey really begins with a very unexpected quake. All right, so my version of the earthquake is a tad more Hollywood, but hey, whatever.
Here's an excerpt from the end of chapter one:
“All right, my friends, it’s do or die time. Look at the water. It’s turning orange. You haven’t much time. Jump into the lake, dive right in, and keep swimming.”
“Why?” questioned Jake nervously. “What the heck is going on?”
“You’ll see, Mr. Bug Eyes. Don’t ask questions. Just do it.” But just as those words came out of Rich’s pointy little black beak, the ground began to shake and tremor, the path convulsing and buckling under their feet like a fun house ride.
“Oh boy, the event is about to take place,” Rich squealed in excitement. He did a back flip, landed on his feet, and danced around. “You may want to jump in the lake right about now.”
“Holy guacamole! EARTHQUA-A-KE!” screamed Jake at the top of his lungs as he jumped to the right, and then to the left, narrowly avoiding a street lamp that was just about to fall on his head. Smash. It shattered on the ground. “I told you...”
“Shut up! NOT the time for that,” yelled Dylan, fear gripping her pounding heart. Jake had this unnatural obsession with the New Madrid Fault Line. And she never really believed that it was possible for Chicago to experience seismic activity, even though Jake had tried convincing their entire class that it could, until that very moment. She tried forcing herself to remain calm. But it wasn’t working. In a panic, she dropped her backpack, almost fell, and then, a huge orange wave shot out of the lake and crashed down forcefully on their stunned heads.
I always hate that part.” Rich shook the water of his little body and fluffed up his feathers. “Go! Swim! Now’s your chance!”
“Don’t worry just follow me. I won’t let anything happen to you,” barked Watson, leaping into the water, disappearing from view for a few seconds. His black head popped out of the rolling waves. “What are you waiting for? I cross my paws. We’ve got your back.”
“B-b-b-but the water may be radioactive. I don’t want to…” whimpered Jake.
“It’s not radioactive. It’s what’s supposed to happen,” sighed Rich. “Yo, Crick, help a brother out here.”
Pretending like he was a bull, Crick wiped his paws on the ground, and charged at Dylan and Jake, pushing them into the lake with his big, white blockhead. Watson dove under water, Dylan followed Watson, and Jake followed Dylan. Dazed, confused and scared, Dylan figured if they were listening to a bird, it made perfect sense that they could trust Jake’s dogs.
Crick was the last to join the group. Grabbing Dylan’s backpack off the side of the path in his mouth, he dove into the lake. Before he swam under, Crick mumbled to the cardinal, “We did it.”
[The DNA of Dylan O’Leary, Jake Sharp, and Other Freaks of Nature]
Is there a theme in my writing???
PROLOGUE
So you think you’re a mutant?
If you had ever met Dylan O'Leary, you wouldn’t have noticed anything unusual about her. She didn’t have clubbed feet, webbed hands, a tail, or any other odd mutations. She was of average height, average weight, average intelligence, and, to be perfectly honest, she was normal…well, normal with regards to the loosest definition of the word.
Because, as we all know, appearances can be deceiving.
And what’s normal for some may not be for others.
Take Dylan, for instance.
Dylan had sensed that there was something that made her a whole lot less typical than other kids her age – something on the inside. Call it an intuition, but she’d had a theory that whatever “it” was had to do with her dad, and that because of him, whatever amazing trait she possessed would someday be turned on like a light switch.
Which of course she couldn’t prove considering she’d never actually met the man.
Dylan’s father was some kind of a secret agent off on a mission saving the world. At least that was what her mother had told her. And although this may sound pretty cool on paper, it was very tough on Dylan. Shortly after she was born, he’d left on his assignment, and besides his name, that was all Dylan really knew about Bill O’Leary.
But she could always imagine him.
And that was exactly what she was doing when “it” happened…
CHAPTER ONE
The dreamer and the brainiac
It was an unusually humid day in Chicago three weeks prior to the start of seventh grade and Dylan O’Leary was doing the thing she did best. She was lounged out in Lincoln Park where she and her dad were on one of their fantastic adventures…in her head. This time they were in India tracking down an evil crime syndicate that had stolen some mad scientist’s powerful laser that could destroy the world (a pretty standard fantasy when your dad was supposed to be an important secret agent). So they were riding on the backs of elephants, and they had just discovered the criminal’s secret lair, when all of a sudden something came swirling down from the sky like a falling meteor, hitting Dylan smack dab in the middle of her forehead.
Th-whack.
Ready to bawl out the person responsible for knocking her into reality, Dylan sat up and angrily scanned her surroundings.
But nobody was around.
Dylan surveyed the ground next to her, figuring a branch or a nut had fallen from a tree. But what she found next to her was more than unexpected. A plump cardinal was splayed out on his back. His little red chest was heaving up and down, feathers ruffling in the hot breeze. Dylan eyed the bird hesitantly, and was just about to nudge him with one of her flip-flopped feet to see if was okay, when his intense gaze met hers, almost daring her to do it.
She nudged him anyway.
“Give me a minute,” panted the cardinal, kicking his little black legs in the air. “It’s not like I do this every day.”
Dylan sucked in her breath and blinked her green eyes open in astonishment.
There had to be a logical explanation for what she was seeing and hearing.
Like that she was dreaming.
Or that she was going crazy...
And chapter one continues.
Feel free to leave comments!
My latest WIP
Trying something very different here- writing in the first person.
This is all I'm gonna post of MAVERICK MERCURY THE MAGNIFICENT: KING OF THE MUTANTS...so enjoy.
Hurry! Hurry! Step right up and see our amazing sideshow. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have something here for everyone. See the freaks of nature, the mutants, the human oddities, and yes; we even have live, right before your very eyes, a smashing performance by Maverick the Magnificent. The show starts in a few hours, so you’ll have plenty of time to see these wondrous rarities of our world in our incredible Odditorium.
PROLOGUE HOW IT ALL STARTED
Most people call me a freak, or a weirdo, or a monster. Let me make myself clear, and I’m not being a bonehead when I say this, but I really don’t care what’s said or thought about me. Because really, when it all comes down to it, it’s all just a matter of opinion. Besides, most people are just scared of things that they can’t explain. And dudes, let’s face it, what I am goes beyond all human understanding.
I guess I should get everything out into the open. I never asked for all the fame, although the fortune that comes along with my notoriety is pretty awesome. But if I could change everything tomorrow, I would. Because I never asked to become King of the Mutants. The position sort of just fell into my lap, and now, I’m pretty much like a rock star, a celebrity in my own right. Allow me to introduce myself.
I was born with the name of Maverick Mercury and I’m unlike any other boy that you’ve ever met. Except for my good buddies, everybody knows me as Gator. Which totally suits me. And by totally, I mean totally. You could call me a freak, but I like to think of myself as special – superbly unique. After all, you folks pay big bucks just to see me, and seriously, how many other twelve year olds do you know that have a cult following? How about posters, or T.V. specials, or groupies, and fan clubs? A movie about your life? Not too many, I bet.
So right about now, I bet you’re trying to guess what I’m like, meaning you must be chomping at the bit to find out what I look like. What makes me so weird. Trust me, I’m getting to that, but before I do, and I don’t mean to keep putting you off, a little warning. If you are faint of heart, or can’t handle the unknown, or get scared of things that confuse you, or if you really hate clowns, like I do, I wouldn’t turn another page.
Because things are going to get very freakish.
And it’s the story of my life.
CHAPTER ONE HOW TO DEAL WITH A THREE-LEGGED DOG
The day my life took a turn for the worse was the day I met Freddie Finch. It’s not that Freddie’s a bad guy. He’s totally cool in his own Freddie way. It’s just that if Freddie hadn’t run away from home, well, then we wouldn’t have been hiding behind Bobo’s cage. And if we hadn’t been hiding behind Bobo’s cage, we wouldn’t have heard Grumbling and Yorgi’s conversation. And if we hadn’t heard that particular conversation, I probably wouldn’t have become King of Mutants…
But I’m getting ahead of myself. So I’ll start at the beginning.
See, I’d been working with Grumbling’s Traveling Circus and Sideshow for as long as I can remember. I’d say it was my home, but it was more like a job, considering I didn’t go to school, and considering the fact that I got paid. It was way below minimum wage, but it was money – not that I really spent it because of all the room and board fees. Anyways, apparently, my parents didn’t want a freak like me around, and at the young age of nine months, they dropped me off with Burt – that was Burt Grumblings, the owner, and obviously the Grumbling in Grumbling’s. Burt was as tall as he was wide and it looked like his face had been run over by a steamroller. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for with meanness, food, or a bottle of scotch. His last name suited him to a tee. It was best to avoid him all together.
Now besides Mr. Grumbling, and those insane and evil clowns run by nasty, glass-eyed Yorgi, and the Flying Forsinis…and the fat lady…and the barker… and the midgets, my family became the circus. Which pretty much left me with Bobo the Dancing Bear and the elephants, who didn’t talk; Slim McGillicuddy, the tall man; and the rest of us so-called freaks. Oh yeah, and Clyde, but he pretty much kept to himself. He said it was his pride that kept him away from everybody, which, of course, was a joke of his, because he was the lion tamer. Even funnier was the fact that we only had two lions, and one of them didn’t have teeth, the other one was blind, so both of them were pretty docile.
Yeah, circus humor, irony. Whatever. Now, back to my story.
I've been meaning to write about Hayden for some time. In fact, as I'm writing this, tears are streaming down my face. If there are any typos, please excuse them. I'm what you call extremely empathetic. You cry, I cry. You laugh, I laugh.
Hayden Panettiere was in Tiji, Japan to save Dolphins. Some thirty activists, including the ‘Heroes’ star, formed a floating circle on surf boards offshore near the coastal village of Taiji, where thousands of dolphins are slaughtered at a cove in Taiji every year.
I'm making Hayden an honorary Task Master. Hayden, you rock!
Go Gramps... It is no surprise that the first mammals Dylan and Jake meet are the dolphins named Olly and Molly. When I was young, and I'm still young at heart, my grandfather was a lifeguard at the age of 70. Yes, that's what I said, 70. And he could outrun, out swim, and out play any sixteen year old. True. Although his nickname was Whitey, not because he was a cracker, but because of his white hair, I called him Poppy, but his "real" name was William Carl, and it's also the name of Dylan's dad in my novel. The most alarming thing, and very ironic, is that he died from choking on a brownie. A brownie! (It ruptured his esophagus...)
Anyway...back to being a lifeguard. Poppy used to row me out in a boat and point out a porpoise, who he named, and you may have already guessed it, Olly. Having survived three wars, (Vietnam, Korea, WWII), I find it more than necessary to honor him and his memory in Survival.
And, now that we have a new war on our hands, fighting to save earth's creatures, I'd like to honor Hayden too. Without people like her, fighting against the injustices of the world, well, you get the point. No matter what your talents are, you can ALWAYS make a difference. For me, right now, the pen is mightier than the sword. And it's just the beginning...
Why my novel needs to be published....NOW
I'm not looking for fame, fortune...but if it happened, I would do something in this crazy world of ours to make a difference. As you may have gathered from my blog, I LOVE ANIMALS. It is more than just an obsession for me. What upsets me deeply is the fact (according to several news sources) that almost a quarter of the world's mammals face extinction within 30 years.
What?
Exactly.
This is very disturbing news.
The encroachment of human settlement into wilderness regions, rainforest and wetlands destruction, and the impact of industry, have had a dramatic impact on the survival of threatened animals and plants. And without education, even if it is disguised as a fantastical adventure, these are a few of the 11,000 endangered animals and plant species that are in harm's way:
Adult black rhinoceros
One in eight bird species is also in danger of extinction, and more than 5,000 different plants.
The Siberian tiger
The Philippine eagle
The Asian Amur leopard
The Orangutan
Mountain Gorillas
Friends, the list goes on and on and on.
I have a little mantra (that I borrowed from the show "Heroes" and tweaked). It goes like this. SAVE A TIGER, SAVE THE WORLD! Can you imagine our world without these animals. I can't.
My novel is more than "just a book." I invite kids to become, what I call, Task Masters. All it takes is a little imagination and some inspiration. If I became a successful author, knock on wood, I would love to bring kids to places like Noah's Arc in Namibia, where injured and orphaned animals are taken care of and released back into the wild. I'd love to have my own boutique hotel/animal sanctuary. I'd love to meet Bindy Irwin, Jeff Corwin, Jack Hannah, and Bear Grylls.
See, I'd love to make a difference and inspire and have fun while doing it. Hey, when you dream, dream BIG. Right?
Drum roll please...
After months and months and months of edits, re-writes, "finding my voice", and trying not to go insane, I am finally ready to submit my manuscript, Survival of the Weirdest (The DNA of Dylan O'Leary, Humanity and Other Freaks of Nature, to agents and one publisher in particular. I am really excited about the opportunity to present to this particular house...
As I wrote the manuscript, I also adapted it into a screenplay, and I'm planning on submitting it to two places: both are competitions.
I did all this while working my "day job" as a creative at an ad agency and starting my next middle grade book tentatively entitled Maverick Mercury the Magnificent: King of the Mutants.
My real "fifteen minutes of fame" happened when I was featured on QVC, selling the handbags that I invented. It was a nerve wracking experience, but I suffered through it. Now I know why I didn't pursue acting as a career. (I attended the Chicago Academy for the Performing and Visual Arts, and let's just say, I'm a much better singer than I am an actress).
Two years ago my husband and I moved to LA after five years of hearing my mother's incessant pleading of "move to California, move to California." Well, we gave it a shot. And we moved from Chicago.
I was having great difficulty getting a "real job," having no experience in the entertainment industry, so I decided to utilize my talents of art direction, product design, and fashion, and I started working with emerging brands. The goal was to help them increase their exposure...
For some reason, I was put in charge of a gifting room for the Buena Vista Upfronts when I lived in Los Angeles. We, the brands I was working with, met the casts of Desperate Housewives, Lost, and Grey's Anatomy. After the event, we were allowed to attend where David Lee Roth performed. Which was rather odd. (Not the party, but his performance). Here are some pix:
Guido Daniele's amazing Hand Painting Art. Guido Daniele was born in Soverato (CZ - Italy) and now lives and works in Milan. Since 1964 until 1968 he attended Brera artistic High School and he graduated from Brera School of Arts (major in sculpturing) in 1972. In 1972 he started working as hyper-realistic illustrator, in co-operation with major editing and advertising companies, using and testing different painting techniques. In 1990 he added a new artistic experience to his previous ones: using the "body painting" technique he creates and paints models bodies for different situations such as advertising pictures and commercials, fashion events and exhibitions.
After months of rigorous and unrelenting training, Uno the Beagle didn't quite stun the crowds when he won the Westminster Dog Show last night. He was a shoe-in. And his win didn't surprise anybody.
Snoopy, one of Uno's greatest supporters, had this to say, "I had no doubts that Uno could do it. We worked really hard in getting him into tip top shape. Even vocally. That boy can howl."
The other dogs, Uno's competitors, knew it was trouble they saw Uno-a-comin. The general consenus was that they couldn't compete with anything so darn cute. The Neopolitan Mastiff knew he was out of his league. "The thing about beagles is that they don't have that drool factor that puts so many people off. I knew Uno was going to win the moment I saw him. Ciao."
When asked if he was happy with the win, Uno beamed.
"It's not the year of the rat," he said proudly. "It's the year of the beagle."
Then, he asked if we were finished with "that" and he licked our sandwiches.
Congratulations, Uno. Now give me back that meatball.
I wanted to thank Adrienne Kress (aka Toothpaste) for assisting me in getting the opening paragraphs of my manuscript in tip-top shape. In addition to giving me wonderful advice for the past four-five months, she has been nothing but supportive. I hope that her kindness comes back to her in spades...and diamonds...and hearts...and clovers. Heck, throw in a Leprechaun and a pot of gold while your at it.
Anyway, she is a very talented MIDDLE GRADE author. Buy her book for you, your friends, and of course, your kids.
You can visit her site by going to ididn'tchoosethis.blogspot.com
(for some reason my links aren't working)
Zut alors!
NY, here I come...
I'll be going to the SCBWI Children's book writing conference this weekend. Apparently, it's a great place to meet other writers, and most importantly, network with agents and publishers. I've been making a last minute push to get everything ready...and I'm exhausted. My novel, SURVIVAL of the WEIRDEST, is in excellent shape and I am really happy with it. It is a far cry from the mindless dribble that it once was. It has got flow...and it has got voice. Booya!
My plot synopsis' are complete (a real tongue twister for Cindy Brady). And I've finally added brainiac to spell check. You'd be surprised how many people missed it during its final proofing stages. Because what in the world is a braniac? Somebody that eats a lot of bran? Yep, embarrasingly enough, I just found it. Ahh, the trials and tribulations of writing...when your cross eyed from exhaustion. Zut alors!
On a personal note, I've just finished writing two screenplays that I plan on submitting to various "contests." One of them, and you may have already guessed, is the adaptation of SURVIVAL OF THE WEIRDEST, complete at 126 pages. It's a little longer than most screenplays, which typically run 90-120 pages, but considering it is a fantasy, I think I'm on the money. And considering I cut it down from 174 pages, well, 'nuff said. The other screenplay is a chick-lit dramedy...and not quite middle grade. Cough. Cough. Far from it.
Any writers goin to the conference? Shoot me an email. I'll be meeting up with two other writers, including Paul, from the post below, and a personal inspiration of mine, Stephen (aka PennStater) from a site that I live on: absolutewrite.com
Night-light? Pet? Or some strange genetic mutation? I'm not so sure how much glowing cats will help with human genetic research and I'm not quite sure how I feel about this. Let's think about it from the cat's perspective.
Regular cat: Dude, what's wrong with your skin? You don't look quite right and you're scaring all the mice away.
Glow-kitty: Yeah, it's pretty messed up man. I'm scared of myself. Why did they do this to me? Why? Why? Why?
Yep, it's just as thought. We're messing with their lives.
Korean scientists have cloned cats that glow red when exposed to ultraviolet rays, an achievement that could help develop cures for human genetic diseases, the Science and Technology Ministry said.
Three Turkish Angora cats were born in January and February through cloning with a gene that produces a red fluorescent protein that makes them glow in dark. One died at birth, but the two others survived, the ministry said.
Scientists from Gyeongsang National University and Sunchon National University took skin cells from a cat and inserted the fluorescent gene into them before transplanting the genetically modified cells into eggs.
I need Beta-readers for my novel. I'm looking for five to ten kids to read excerpts/chapters from my novel, Survival of the Weirdest. If you have a child that loves to read between the ages of 9-12, please contact me. (Think Lightning Thief meets Dr. Doolittle meets Narnia meets James Bond meets the Jungle Book)
Of course, when (I'm the eternal optimist) the book does get published, thanks and praise will be given to anybody that helped in print...
A kitten has been born with two faces and veterinarians don't understand why.The kitten was born Wednesday morning in Ohio. It has two mouths that meow in unison, two noses and four eyes that have not opened yet.The little boy who owns the cat said he hasn't decided on a name for the kitten yet, but said he wants to name it Tiger.Two other kittens were in the same litter, but they are normal.Veterinarians say this occurrence is very rare, but the kitten could be just fine. It has already begun nursing just like the other kittens in the litter.
