The other day my three-legged Bengal cat Raja decided my desk was the purr-fect place to spend the afternoon, despite the clutter. While removing the cup of coffee, the previous night’s water, the laptop he thought was in his way, and the flotsam and jetsam that accumulates on the desk of a messy yet creative person, I thought about how much our pets add to our lives and the lives of our characters. Years ago, I had a dog named Clancy. She was a hundred fifty pound Black Lab/St. Bernard mix with a St. Bernard head and a Black Lab coat. Clancy was my baby before I had children, and when we did have kids, she was convinced they were her puppies. Every night she would check on each of the children, and sleep outside their bedrooms doors to make sure they stayed where they belonged. When my youngest was a baby and very ill, my four-year-old would beg to go across the street and play at the neighborhood park. I allowed him to go as long as Clancy was with him. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wat...
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