(A Novel of the '80s)
(A Novel of the '80s)
The decade is the 1980s; hair is big, shoulder pads are hefty, and the backlash against feminism has begun.
This is the world of Cat Dreaming, an adult contemporary novel that explores the relationships among four aspiring women, their partners, and their cats. It’s chick lit with a feline twist -- kit lit. There’s Tina, a fat girl in a thin girl’s body; Maureen, a confident editor hiding a bloody habit; Sarah, a would-be fantasy writer addicted to exercise, booze and sex; and Electra, a bundle of energy dealing with gender ambiguity. And there are the cats -- Hercules, Carrington, Mindy Marmalade, Sheena Queen of the Jungle and Mr. Ed -- who stalk through the narrative, claws at the ready to defend their females or destroy the couch. As Wall Street crashes and home computers begin the digital invasion, the women struggle with professional challenges and inner demons, finding strength in friendship and cats. The book opens in 1989 with a mystery: Sarah has been badly hurt and her friends can’t believe that it was a deliberate accident. Through a series of episodes reaching back to 1984, we explore the women’s past and what brought them together. By the end of the novel we discovered out how a talented, beautiful woman can be driven to the brink of madness, even in an era when women are redefining their identities.
By turns hilarious, poignant, and surreal, Cat Dreaming romps through a decade when so much changed.
Cat dreaming was a state between consciousness and sleep, both lucid and hazy. In cat dreaming, cats chase mice or birds or fish or leaves endlessly and effortlessly. Yarn hangs from the sky, feathers drift from the ceiling, tiny rubber balls never escape under the dresser out of reach. They prowl along mossy trails, across alleys, through bushes and closets and screen doors. That’s why cats slept so much. They weren’t sleeping; they were cat dreaming.
.....That launched poop patrol. Taking turns, they would each try to get the most poops in one scoop. Strict rules for the game evolved. You could only do one straight scoop, no zigzags. Poops smaller than a dime were worth only half a point. No touching the poops for the tally. The most poops at the end of the game won. On one spectacular day Maureen managed to get five regulation-size poops in one scoop and her brother got none although they both spent the next twenty minutes trading off scooping because he kept insisting, “Just one more scoop.” ...
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