Those Ninja guys might be strong and quick about getting out of ropes and locked rooms, but they sure aren’t smart. They took me away, tied Gidget, Minou and me up, stuck us in the trunk of a car and put us in the room I’d put them in. I could see how they escaped - they’re great lockpicks, I’ll say that for them, and they can hide drills like nobody’s business. And they took the time to boobytrap the place I’d put them.

So here we were, Gidget, Minou and me, all tied up - trussed like a Christmas turkey is the expression, with lead weights on our feet, hands and backs. A bare room - nothing in it but grey smooth concrete walls, floor and ceiling. A rectangular crack where the door is, with no locks showing (but now there was a big spot of new cement where they’d chipped the concrete away to get to the lock, and then refilled it. Neat and tidy, they are, but not smart.) So we’re lying on the cold concrete floor, and Minou is plenty miffed, I’ll tell you. Not only did they take him away from his dinner, but they ruffled his fur all over the place while they tied him up, and they made fun of his turned over ear. Little did they know! That’s when the seawater started seeping in from the walls. It ran down the grey cement, making interesting ribbons and trails of darker grey, and it smelled of kelp and salt and iodine. For a long time, all that happened was that the walls and floor darkened down as the water seeped into the concrete and made it wet. Then the water started puddling on the floor. First in the corners, and then the puddles started growing. At the same time, the seeping increased - it was a flow - a little flow, granted, but we could see the water trickling down the walls, and the puddles were growing faster. It wouldn’t be long before they joined up and we’d be lying in icy cold seawater.

Gidget went ballistic - she hates water with a passion and being all tied up wasn’t doing anything for her mood either. Minou growled at her and started twitching his ear. I was trying to stay calm, and see if I could figure out what knots they’d used, and if I could untie them. If I was very lucky, which was unlikely at this point, they’d have used the Witches Conundrum, and if it’s done right, it’s impossible to get out of (because the more you try to loosen it, the tighter it gets) Gidget eventually calmed down and started rubbing her bonds against the concrete - it wasn’t totally smooth, and she might be able to wear the rope through (one of the advantages of politically and ecologically correct Ninjas is that they won’t use anything but natural fibres, and while hemp rope is strong, it doesn’t stand up to being worn against rough surfaces very well. Not as well as nylon or the other artificial fibres.)

All this took time, and the water kept rising - and it was flowing faster and faster, too. My hands were wet, which made it harder to figure out the knot, and Gidget and Minou climbed up on me to try and stay dry. As the water level rose, I shoved myself up to a sitting position, and then had to kneel in the centre of the floor with the cats perched on my shoulders. Gidget had gotten some of the rope worn, but not enough, and Minou’s ear was tired from all the twitching, so it was looking grim.

The water was at my chin. I shuffled over to the wall, and braced myself against it, then tried to get to my feet. Yeah, if it didn’t work it was just postponing the inevitable, but it gave me a few more minutes to work at the knots. I coughed and shivered - the water was cold, and I was tired and hungry, and it was, at this point, a toss up between hypothermia and drowning. Gidget’s moaning and complaining wasn’t helping my peace of mind, either, let me tell you.

But I kept working. The water rose - from my ribs to my collarbone, to my chin. Finally, I managed to loosen the knots, and I untied the cats. Now this is what I mean about the Ninjas not being smart. Anybody who builds an escape proof room has to know that sooner or later, they might end up in it - so you build in an escape hatch, right? Right. But they hadn’t found it, or even realized that it would be there. Now I had to see if the escape hatch had taken water damage - when I built the place, I sure hadn’t expected it to flood, so . . . we might still be in for the greatest adventure.

I dove under the water, and by feel (have you ever opened your eyes in saltwater? I don’t recommend it), located the escape panel. Sure enough, the water’d seeped into the cover, and it was a real pain to get open. I had to come up for air five or six times. The activity warmed me up, though so the hypothermia wasn’t as much of an issue.

I finally got it open, and we were sucked down into the tunnel, swept along and deposited in the secret hallway of my cabin. I just hoped the Ninja’s weren’t there. It would sort have spoiled the surprise - the cabin was pretty wet when I finally got the door open. But they weren’t. They’d somehow figured out that the plans were under one of the outhouses, and Minou eventually located them at the throne of Henry VIII. Stupid ninja’s! Not gonna put ‘em there. The three of us overpowered them and I buried them in the oldest but still used outhouse of all - the Buffy Room.

I’m back home now, after having moved the plans (they are no longer buried under one of the outhouses), and after a very, very, very long bath involving lots of disinfectant, and another long hot soak with a lot of bubble bath and scented bath gel and shampoo, Minou, Gidget and I are taking a well deserved rest. Tomorrow we’re leaving.

Where? Oh, somewhere.

Posted under Guest Author Blog

Okay. So they’re gone. Whew! And I’m back at home, with the cats (I’ll try really hard to find the photos tonight). I still don’t know where they were from even though they told me. (The Ninjas, I mean, not the cats. I know where they’re from.) I didn’t believe them. Their accents weren’t right and the way they used the language (not English, something else that I’m not allowed to tell you) told me they weren’t from where they said they were.

So, they came back yesterday and took me outside, walked me down to the beach and made Gidget, Minou and me dig. You ever tried digging in dry sand? Not fun. I mean, I’m used to digging - when I’m up Island (or off Island) I dig for hours a day and my calluses have calluses, but I gotta tell ya, by the time we finished, we’d turned that beach over - there was sand and shells that hadn’t seen the light of day for at least 20 million years, I swear. Found a nice sand dollar, though, and some great beach glass, and a couple of those Japanese fishing floats, and a couple of interesting specimens of seaweed. Beachcombing can be fun! As long as you’re not digging too.

I kept asking them what they wanted, but they just kept telling me I knew and if I didn’t cooperate, I’d find myself in the depths of a dungeon that even Vlad the Impaler wouldn’t have dreamed of. And then they told me that they knew I was the super spy that had stolen the plans to the super secret thing I still can’t tell anyone about, and then they made us dig some more. So that was what they wanted - the plans to the super secret thing.

Don’t know how they found out that I was Super Spy - that secret was supposed to be buried deeper than the Marianas Trench. In fact, I think that the documentation was buried there. Anyway, they never asked me where the stuff was (sorry, I still can’t tell you what it was), but thought they knew. Once they’d given up, we went back to the cabin and they made me cook them dinner, and threatened that if I didn’t tell them where the plans were, they’d torture and kill us all - slowly and painfully. I was pretty scared, so I picked Gidget up and cuddled her, and then Minou jumped up on my lap and demanded equal time. Then they jumped down and demanded to be let out.

I started dinner (spaghetti with a meat sauce that’s been handed down 8 generations) and as I was opening the bottle of wine (Veuve Cliquoet Chianti, 85) the cats came back - all covered with sand and leaves and dirt. I don’t know what they’d been doing, but they sure had fun while they were doing it. I cleaned them off while the wine breathed and the sauce bubbled and the water boiled. I made the Ninja’s prepare the salad.

We had dinner, but I wasn’t allowed to have any of the wine - the greedy Ninja’s drank it all. About an hour after dinner, they all fell asleep, and I tied them up and put them in the car trunk and drove to a secret location. Once I was there, I locked them into a special room and left. Now I’m home. And that adventure is over.

See, what those Ninjas didn’t know was that when you mix the seaweed I found on the beach with some of the leaves that Minou and Gidget brought back in with them (on purpose - while I was petting them, I whispered to them to go out and get the leaves), and put it in wine, it produces a really strong sleeping potion. Those Ninjas are going to sleep for three days.

And they won’t die, either. If they think very hard about it, and they work really hard, they can untie themselves, and the room they’re locked in can be opened, if they are patient and think outside the box. The only trouble is that they’ll have to be able to hold their breaths for a fairly long time. It’s at the bottom of the ocean, off the coast a ways.

Oh, and the secret plans? They’ re buried under one of the outhouses I use. I have several. There’s the Louis XVI, and the Art Deco, and the Elizabethan and the Star Trek and the Matrix and the World War I & II. And those are only the ones I finished. One of my hobbies is decorating outhouses. If those Ninja types want them, they’re gonna have to dig for them. But they don’t know which out house it’s under. Hope they have fun.

Tomorrow I’ll post the pictures of the cats. Promise.

Oh, wait - I hear something! Hang on.

. . .

. . .

Oh, no! They got out! They’re better than I thought - they’re breaking in through the basement. They’ve

Posted under Guest Author Blog

So, yesterday I said I’d try and post a photo of the cats, but I haven’t found one yet, because you see, I ran away again and am in a secret location up Island (or maybe off Island) where I’m being my other self of the smelly gold prospector. The cats are with me. They like helping me dig for gold. So we are in my run-down ramshackle cabin in the middle of this forest that’s ninety miles from nowhere, except that it’s close to the sea. And in the middle of the night I hear this stealthy rustling sound, and thumps and bangs. Gidget climbs under the covers, and cowers down by my feet. Minou perks up his one ear (he can’t perk up the other one), raises his head and realizes that somebody or something is out there. Figuring he might have a new worshiper or fan, he pads to the door and meows, but the banging and thumping keep going. I’m cowering under the covers, with Gidget - let Minou look after the bear or the raccoon or whatever it is.

Except that I start hearing voices. Now that’s a relief. It’s not a hungry grizzly bear (do they even live around here? I dont’ know!) or a frustrated raccoon who can’t get into my garbage. It’s people. I can talk to people.

So I get up, put my dressing gown on and open the door just as two guys, who were dressed like hi-tech ninjas, and are now dressed like hi-tech ninjas who’ve been mauled by a bear, a ticked off raccoon and about thirty three miles of bush and low slung tree branches burst into my cabin. I’d have yelled at them but they were carrying a lot of what looked like weapons.

Ooops, have to go. The guys are coming back. For hi-tech ninjas, who specialize in silent stuff, they sure make a lot of noise! More later! And I will look for the cat pictures!

Posted under Guest Author Blog

So, I should introduce myself. Bev. Cooke. Writer. But you knew that, right? Or maybe you didn’t. Yes, that’s what I am. I live in Victoria, in an old, rambly, under renovations house that was built in 1912, with my husband, the reclusive luddite, my kids, my son the sargeant and my daughter the artist, and our two cats. Except when I run away and become a gold miner up island for years at a time, and never bathe or wash my clothes.

I guess I’ll start by talking about my cats - Gidget and Minou. Gidget is a big, fearful white and black cat who started life as a feral cat, living in the subway station near where “As Good as it Gets” with Jack Nicholson & Helen Hunt was filmed. She got tamed and adopted by my brother-in-law, who lived near there at the time. He adopted another cat, Minou, to keep her company while he was at work (he’s a neuropsychologist). Minou is grey and sleek and very convinced of his own magnificence. So they moved down to Texas, when Eric did, then back to New York City, and then when Eric’s son was born, they decided that two cats, one child and two adults in an apartment the size of my kitchen was a bit too much, so we got them. Well travelled cats - New York, Texas, New York and now Victoria, BC.

Minou thinks this is just great - he’s perfect, and all perfect cats should travel. Gidget, on the other hand, sees change as a fearful and uncertain thing. She’s happiest if she’s left to herself, sunning on the bed, or the dining room table, or, in the winter, curled up against the hot air register in the wall of the library.

If I can find a photo of them, I’ll post it.

Posted under Guest Author Blog

This is Jacqueline Pearce guest blogging again. I’d like to say a special “hello” to anyone out there who is reading my novels, Dog House Blues or The Truth About Rats (and Dogs), which have both been nominated for readers’ choice awards in 2007-8.

These books came about after the British Columbia Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (BC SPCA) asked me to write some stories for their kids’ club. I figured if I was going to write about kids and animal issues, it would be important to write about kid issues too. The first book, Dog House Blues, is about the relationship between a girl and her three dogs, and it’s also about the girl’s experience being bullied at school. The second book, The Truth about Rats (and Dogs), is about a boy who isn’t allowed to get the dog he wants, but ends up sneaking home a pet rat. It’s also about the boy’s frustration with his parents not recognizing his real talents and interests and about the problems with stereotypes.

It was a lot of fun researching both these books. I got many of the ideas for things that happen in Dog House Blues from my own dog experiences. For example, once when my husband and I were driving our daughter and some class-mates on a field trip, one of the girls wrinkled her nose up and said that our van stunk like a dog. This same thing happens to Erika, the girl in the novel. In our case, the kids didn’t really mind the smell, because they like our big, friendly dog, Dylan. In Erika’s case, it was the start of a mean nickname.

I also got a lot of ideas from my friend’s four dogs. Her Bassett hound was always stealing food, as well as eating things that no one else considered food. She’d get a pizza delivered, turn her back for a second, and the whole pizza would be on the floor. Dumpster, the Bassett hound in the novel, is based directly on my friend’s dog, Basil. The spaghetti incident (you know what I mean if you’ve read the book) really happened.

When I was researching The Truth About Rats (and Dogs) I took care of a rat called Oscar (and later two other rats, George and Sneaker) and learned a lot about rats. For example, I learned that a rat’s scaly tail (which some people find creepy) is very useful. It helps the rat grip things (good for climbing), helps the rat balance (works like the balancing pole a tight rope walker holds), and it helps regulate the rat’s body temperature (cools the rat down when it’s hot and keeps the rat warm when it’s cold). I also learned that rats are very social and quite smart, and they can learn tricks. I tested this out by teaching Oscar to jump through a hoop to get some food. Conner, the boy in the book, teaches his rat (which I based on the real Oscar) to do the same.

Well, I guess that’s enough writing for one post. If you want to know more, check out my website at www.jacquelinepearce.ca where you can find an author interview, more photos and links to my personal blog posts on rats and the books. You can also check out my earlier Orca blog posts by clicking on October in the column at the right.

Photo at top: me with rats George and Sneaker at the Vancouver SPCA shelter.

Bottom left photo: Basil the Bassett hound (in behind) singing along to accordion music at the launch of Dog House Blues (the white dog is my dog, Dylan).
Bottom middle: kids meeting Basil at an SPCA Kids’ Club book event.
Bottom right: Oscar the rat and me.

Posted under Books, Guest Author Blog