Book Blog Tour Schedule for Something Furry Underfoot Written by Amy L Peterson on September 24, 2013
To get the word out about Something Furry Underfoot, I hired two marketeers, as I call them, which are people who market things like books. One marketeer is Jenkins Group, a book marketing company in my home state of Michigan. They got me set up with something called ReviewDirect which reaches something like 18,000 librarians, book stores, colleges and universities. They are also going to issue a press release on September 25 targeted to media and other folks who are at interested in pets. Meanwhile, my other marketeer, Stormi, from Lightning Book Productions, set up a virtual book blog tour for me. That means my book will be talked about on various book blog sites from September 26- October 10 by people who blog about books from their homes in the UK, Ireland, Canada, Nigeria, and the United States. The schedule of events is below. Also, check out my new video about Bumpkin, the domestic duck, by clicking on the Videos page of my web site. Thanks!
September: 26th Rachel @ My Kid Has Paws (review). Here is Rachel’s great review!
27th Annette @ Books & Tales Here is my author interview! 28th Ruth
@ My Devotional Thoughts (review) Heather
@ Sit Down Saturday (author interview)
29th Stormi @ Books, Movies, Reviews, Oh My!
30th Debra @ 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy & Sissy Too! (guest post)
October: 1st Lade @ We Blog About Books (review)
2nd Shannon @ These are but Shadows (review and giveaway.
Enter to win a free copy of my book here: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/6289a78/
3rd Bethany @ Cascadian Nomads (review)
Patrick @ http://the-thursday-interview.blogspot.com/
4th Ann @ Pawsitively Pets (guest post
5th Morgen @ Morgen Bailey’s Writing Blog (author interview)
6th Darryl @ Savage Lullabye
7th Susan @ Green Frog Reviews (review)
8th Brianna @ Listful Booking (review)
9th Kathleen @ Jersey Girl Book Reviews (review)
Kimberly @ Turning the Pages (review)
10th Valerie @ The Gothic Ballerina (guest post)
Something Furry Underfoot is my humorous, touching memoir about raising a whole bunch of pets my husband kept bringing home and how I ended up caring for and falling for all of them. It includes 50 tips, some of which are about pets, some of which are about the spouses that love pets. My book is available as a paperback and an e-book on Amazon.com, and as an e-book in numerous e-formats at Smashwords.com.
If you go to Amylpeterson.com/MyBook,
you’ll find all my books, plus photos of most of the pets in Something Furry Underfoot. Some proceeds of all of my animal books will benefit animal rescue organizations. Below is an excerpt from Something Furry Underfoot, from Chapter 4, Barking Up Another Tree. This chapter is prefaced by Tip #19: Some pesky pet pursuers are more persistent than others. Mark is my husband; Conrad and Elizabeth are two of my stepkids. In my spare time, I sometimes wonder about all the forces that go into making certain events unfold. See, when I first met Mark, he had a German Shepherd the size of a miniature horse, so I assumed that if we ever got a dog, we’d end up with a giant canine that could knock me over with an energetic whip of its tail. Instead, in 1998, Mark happened to be in a pet store with Conrad and Elizabeth falling in love with a tiny white lhasa-bijon puppy. The fact that Mark fell for a small, pure white, non-hunting, frou-frou dog is pretty amazing. That a puppy came into my life at the point Mark thought we needed one is right up there with miraculous. Mark met our future companion during one of those court-allotted Wednesday evenings with Conrad and Elizabeth. After feeding Conrad and Elizabeth at a restaurant near their suburban Detroit home, the threesome often found themselves in a mall and, eventually, a pet store. Their favorite pet store contained tiny rooms where people could play with puppies. Mark claims he and the kids had gone to this particular pet store numerous times, had played with several puppies, and that on the certain fateful evening as he was leaving the store, he saw the little white frou-frou puppy clawing at the corner of his cage. Mark claims the puppy did this “to get my attention,” and that, “It was love at first sight.” But he couldn’t just bring the puppy home—he was on his way out the door to get the kids back to his Ex at the designated time, and he had a larger force to reckon with at home. See, being practical, Germanic, hard-shelled, tightly wrapped and suffering with a sinus infection, I was happy with the critters we had and immediately said, “Thanks, but no.” Now, I think my answer should have sufficed. But no. “The Little White Puppy” was all Mark talked about, it was all Mark wanted, it was all he’d need for a very long time, AND it was everything I needed to improve my life. It was all I could do to keep from going bonkers. To end the blathering noise, I agreed the next night to drive back to the pet store—an hour away—to look at this great puppy. We did, and, amazingly, as Mark walked by, the little white puppy clawed crazily at the corner of the cage as if to get Mark’s attention. Mark guided me into a tiny room, bursting with happiness when one of the blonde, cheerful clerks handed him the puppy. Mark snuggled the puppy, told him, “I hope we can take you home, little fella,” and put him on the floor. The puppy wobbled up to me, sniffed at my shoes, then bit into a small squeaky toy and shook the crap out of the toy as if to kill it. As Mark went on about the puppy and how much fun it would be, my thoughts were: It’s out of control, it’ll ruin things, it has too much energy, it will make messes, Mark won’t clean up the poop—. I shook my head and said simply, “I can live without him.” Mark whined and whimpered like a beaten dog all the way home. I was only grateful it wasn’t warm enough for the car windows to be down, so other people wouldn’t have to wonder what was making my husband suffer so. I looked over at a passing car and mouthed “HELP” to the passenger. Later, over dinner, I mentioned that perhaps we could go for a walk at a natural area the next day. Mark said “Sure, but it’d be so much more fun with a puppy, don’t you think?” Later, I mentioned that I had to be out of town for work two nights the next week. Mark said, “I’d be much less lonely if I had a puppy around.” He then went on to mention several other reasons why a puppy was just what we needed. My favorite was, “If I’m ignoring you or not really listening to you, you’ll always be able to talk to the puppy.” “And I can talk about you to the puppy when I’m out there cleaning up the dog poop,” I said. “I’ll clean up the dog poop.” “And walk him every day and take him to obedience school and get his shots and—?” “My, we are looking at the positive part of this, aren’t we?” He signed. “It’s a big obligation and not to be taken lightly.” “Apparently not. I mean, of course not. And I’ll do whatever’s needed to take care of him.” He paused and blinked at me with his puppy-dog eyes. “So, can we go get him tomorrow?” It was enough to make a semi-sane person crazy. “If the puppy is at the store tomorrow, we’ll bring him home.” The moment the store opened the next day, Mark called and asked about the puppy. He seemed to hold his breath until suddenly he exploded with, “Phew! I’m so relieved!” He told them we would come pick him up after work, and would they take our credit card number to hold it? I couldn’t get to pet store fast enough to get the puppy, to end the yappity-yap about the puppy and what life would be like with the puppy, and how the puppy would be my best and loyal friend. Mark nearly sprinted into the store, ran right up to the cage the little white puppy was in and announced, “We’re taking you home!” In case the puppy needed any encouragement, Mark quickly moved his hands up and down to mimic the puppy’s spastic clawing at the corner of the cage. What a hit Mark was at the store, blabbing on about the cute puppy to the two cute clerks, who also were downright bubbly about the little white puppy. They told us how lucky we must feel, and how lucky for the puppy, and what a good pal he would be for us. It was as if they’d been coached by Mark in advance of my arrival. Or, they were flirting with Mark. Grrr. I was unmoved and did not crack a smile while Mark filled out a bunch of paperwork and paid for the puppy. And I did not comment when the flirty pet store clerks put a goofy little blue bow on the puppy’s head and brushed him until he looked like a big bag of cotton. Then the puppy was in my arms. One look into his scared little eyes and my heart jumped to my throat, my eyes got all watery, and my crusty outer shell melted away like drippy popcorn butter. I patted the puppy on the head and reassured him with, “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” On the way home, the puppy sat on Mark’s lap, shivering and shaking. I wondered out loud if the puppy had a cold. Soon, he was frothing at the mouth, and I wondered if the little fella was rabid. In answer to my question, the puppy made this gag reflex sound and, in a flash, a small pile of nice warm barf appeared on the floor of my car. “Oh, how cute,” Mark smiled. “He has motion sickness.” “Barf is not cute, no matter how cute the animal it comes from.” “I see your attitude hasn’t changed at all,” Mark grumped. “I see yours hasn’t, either, Mister I-Got-My-Puppy. What’s his name anyway?” “Dusty.” At home, we took a half a billion photos of Dusty in the grass, first with the goofy bow, then without it. He was a bit wobbly from the ride, a bit frothy at the mouth, and his eyes a bit far away, as if the world was still spinning and he wasn’t quite sure where he’d landed. I felt sorry for him: uprooted from a puppy farm and his mom and siblings, shipped off to a store, stuck in a cage for who knows how long, and played with by several strangers, many of whom probably thought he was out of control and perhaps too expensive. Then he was combed and fluffed, and driven in a car that made him sick, to a strange place with a strange man and a formerly normal woman. I scooped the little fella up, carried him inside, and set about making a nest for him in a small, oval-shaped bed we’d picked up along with 20 tons of dog food and treats on the way home. I lined the bed with a dozen of Mark’s and my shirts to remind the puppy that he was stuck with us no matter. Perhaps too tired from his long day, Dusty slept the night without a sound. Read more about Dusty in Something Furry Underfoot and also Dusty, the Angel Pup, a rhyming photo e-book about Dusty for kids. Just go to Amylpeterson.com/MyBooks.