Pamwla Wetterman

Friday, October 18, 2013

Parden Me While I Brag

Author,  Bill Wetterman Receives Critic Review From Writer's Digest


Being his biggest fan, I had to share this wonderful review with my friends. Meet Bill Wetterman, my very talented writing husband.

 


Judges Commentary*:

MADNESS: THE PEACOCK TRILOGY - BOOK 2 by Bill Wetterman has everything fans are looking for: intrigue, adventure, danger, excitement, conflict and romance. A great read!

The front cover is masterfully executed and I believe it would compete with any other book cover on the shelf today. The colors are lovely and certainly appropriate to the title. The model is gorgeous and has just the right expression. The cityscape is awesome, and the peacock feathers worked in -- Wow! Shows up great on Amazon, too. Fantastic, in my view. Works nicely with the first book in the series. Be sure to stick with this artist.

The back cover does not disappoint. Though peacock feathers are still used, I had no problem reading the copy over them. The story is outlined very well. Readers looking for this type of story are sure to investigate inside, whether in person or on Amazon. Nice author photo and bio.

Inside, the font is pleasant and easy to read. I think the author should put the copyright in his name.

The writing moves the story along well with considerable skill. The tone is unflinching, but appropriate to the story. Although the main character is a female, I think men would still enjoy the story. In fact, because of the tone and the fact Peacock is tough herself, I imagine the story might actually find more male than female readers.

All in all, a satisfying read with great elements. Kudos.


Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Barkleah Steps Up His Watchdog Efforts

Barkleah, our Toy Fox Terrier, Is On Guard

 
As if Mr. Barkleah does not have sufficient work to perform, his  job description has increased to include other duties as assigned.
 
 
Being the only watch dog in the family brings challenges. Two weeks ago, we happily welcomed our grandson back into the homestead. Naturally, his companion, Carlos, the Maine Coon Cat, returned as well.  Carlos and Barkleah have a spotted history. Carlos plays like a cat--biting, scratching,, and creeping behind furniture until time to pounce. His favorite game is to sneak up on Barkleah as he sleeps and attack.
 
Add to the stress of any dedicated watchdog the introduction of strangers arriving daily. He has seen two to four workmen moving furniture, removing wood flooring, taking down ceilings and walls, who can blame Barkleah for being short on patience.  The workmen are to be in our home daily for a minimum of four weeks. Yep. Arrival date October 15th and completion date to be November 15th. And they are at least one day behind already. And today is only October 16th.
 
Barkleah spends his days locked up in our master bedroom with Bill and me. We have set up our computers and will devote this peaceful month to our writing, quieting Barkleah, and hoping Carlos will be safe in the upstairs bedroom until his daddy returns from work. To help his time pass, Bill and I take turns visiting Carlos everyday. We continually promise him free range of motion after four pm daily.
 
The two pets are beginning to spend more productive time together. Afterall, a familiar face is much better than four strangers banging on walls and tearing up the house.
 
More next week on the reconstruction.
 
 .
 


Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Gracie, The African Gray Parrot

Gracie is growing up

Miss. Gracie Bird jumped into her terrible two's several months ago. One Saturday, our son brought her over to our home. She is comfortable with us, and Bill and I have had fun babysitting for her if  needed. Upon her arrival, she began greeting me with "Gracie, goes to mommies' house. Gracie goes to see Bill and mommy." She spoke  in a soft, inviting voice. However, as I approached her perch to dote on her, her eyes grew defiant and she attacked her perch with her beak. "Ah. Ah. Ah." 
 
Realizing this was her need for new independence, I moved back a few inches and said, "Yes. It is your  perch. Mommy will not touch your toys." She eyed me one more time, hit her beak on the bamboo branch, and repeated her warning. Once reassured that I was not going to play with her toys, she took a quick flight around the room and settled in.
 
Before she turned two, we  relocated her from the perch to her carry cage , where she ate her meals. With an extended hand and the command to step up, she would hop onto the back of my hand and allow me to take her to the cage.
 
 
Now she ignores the request. Her goal is to make her own decisions. So, we place the food on top of the cage, offer a hand, and then if she is reluctant to step up, I inform her that it is time to eat and she can fly to her cage.  This allows her to make an informed decision. Yes, she is processing the situation  and selecting her choice. At times, she elects to fly and other times she happily steps up.
 
She clearly understands the conversation and makes a personal choice. When she is hungry, she verbalizes "Gracie wants carrots, corn, and potato." If she is tired, she tells us with "Gracie, go night  night., Gracie sleepezz."  Whenever she is thirsty, she requests "Gracie, want water."
 
She role plays her daily routine. When my son is getting ready for work she begins. "Daddy go to work. Daddy be back. Daddy love Gracie. Gracie be okay."  By the time he leaves, she is happily playing with some of her toys. She is an amazing bird.

She practices new words and phrases until she is comfortable. This week she has begun singing the ringtone of my son's cell phone and then responding with a big "Hello." No secrets can be hidden when Gracie is around.
 
By taking time to explain what we want her to do and allowing  her choices, she has become a much happier pet. Sound strange? Those of you who reared children remember those terrible two's. The African Gray is a highly intelligent fowl from the wild. They can not be dominated or domesticated. But they can be wonderful companions. 
 
At times, I wish Barkleah could speak. He uses his eyes and body positioning to tell me what he wants. More about that next week. 

Friday, October 4, 2013

Presenting Author Pamela Wetterman

My dream came true

Dear readers, friends, and family

Today my journey begins as a published author. After five long years of study, writing conferences, and critique groups, I took the biggest step of my career.
A special thanks to all those who encouraged, and supported me. I selected Women's Fiction to encourage women as they multitask their career and role as wife and mother. It is a rocky path, but I believe it is the most valuable and enriching life.

A little about me


As a first-born, my role in life flourished. Developing into a leader, decision maker, and morality compass fit my personality to perfection. Although overly naïve, my instincts to understand and protect others developed at an early age. By junior high, my network of close friends extended to all walks of life, many differing viewpoints, and both males and females.
Being a good listener, able to understand both sides of most situations, presented the vision of a good listener. One who would help without judging, maintained confidences, and offer honest advice.
These personality traits supported my success as a customer care manager and allowed me access to the painful reality of many friends and strangers. People shared their deepest secrets. This contact with real individuals with major issues drove my desire to become an author of Women’s Fiction.
My novels search complex women’s lives, ask difficult questions, and provide honest answers. Based on real people, the stories are lightly sprinkled with humor and guest appearances by Mr. Tubbs, the Toy Fox Terrier (The Artist’s Paradise September 2013), Carlos, the Maine Coon cat (Whispers In The Wind 2014), and Gracie, the African Gray parrot (Alone 2015).

Friday, September 13, 2013

Barkleah, The toy Fox Terrier Who Rules The Neighborhood






Barkleah Has A Life Changing Experience

July 16, 2013. It was a perfectly quiet evening. Barkleah  nestled between Bill and me in our king-sized bed. Just before midnight, the storm attacked and changed his life forever. The hurricane-force straight-winds howled. The hale assaulted the windows behind our bed. Barkleah shook from the tip of his nose to the end of his stubby tail. Where to hide?

He spent the entire evening on guard. Standing on the foot of our bed, his eyes glaring into the darkness, his life's calling had been established. He was now the family protector.

The following morning, several angels of mercy responded to our call for help-the roofers had arrived. However, Barkleah refused them entry. He had never formally met any of these men and they were not going to walk in and bound upstairs to repair rafters and place the coveted blue tarp on our roof. Finally, in desperation, I nudged him into his crate and locked the door behind him.

Over the next six weeks, we have had  contractors from all fields try to win him over.  He has barked fiercely, attempted to bite the extended hands, growled at the kind "Hellos." and lunged at  the more  experienced craftsman who  just  ignored him. No one gets in. So, Barkleah is spending his days sleeping in his favorite "Happy place.



Everyday Barkleah positions himself on the back of the couch so he can peer out both the front and back door. No one will enter without his knowledge. Barkleah rules.

What he doesn't know, is that the next five weeks will be filled with reconstruction, painting, wood floor replacement,  new  carpeting, and wallboard and ceiling repair.  With the knowledge that his behavior is fear based, we will help him feel safe and secure. He will be spending a great deal of his daytime sleeping in his crate.


Tuesday, August 20, 2013

OKAY, BARKLEAH IS SPOILED

BARKLEAH TAKES OVER OUR LIVES
 

One day, our son called to ask a favor. Could we provide a temporary home for Barkleah? He had the opportunity to work for the United States State Department. The assignment would be for twelve months in Romania.  Of course, we said yes.  
  
The first evening we assumed custody of Mr. Barkleah, we carefully followed instructions for bed time. Placing him in his crate, we gave him a treat, and covered the crate with a blanket. He was to happily fall asleep with no protest. Wrong! He instinctively knew he had landed in the home of softies. 

We settled into bed and turned off the lights. Immediately, he began to wine, a soft, lonely whine.
Whispering, I questioned, “Does he sound cold to you, Bill.”
“No. He sounds fine. Now get some sleep.”
“He is shivering. Perhaps, our bedroom is chilly for him.”
“No, he is a con artist. Forget it. Good night, Honey.”

Barkleah’s whimpers turned to full out crying. From the sounds coming from under the blanket, it was clear he stood up-right, trying to open the crate door.

“Bill. He’s freezing. Can’t we warm him up in the bed with us?”
“NO. Once he gets into our bed, we will never get him back into the crate.”
“Please.”

Bill was right. Once he placed Barkleah into our bed, he nosed under the sheets, and permanently claimed his portion of our bed. 

Barkleah also taught us a new game. We call it “Show me.” He surfs the floors searching for dropped pencils, scraps of paper that missed the trash, and credit card receipts that blow off the desk. Once he has a treasure, he moves in for the deal. Hopping like a rabbit, he locates one of us, shakes his head to show us the treasure in his mouth, and then runs under the bed. He wins the game when we crawl on all fours with a treat calling, “Trade.” The score is Barkleah - 1,000. Pam - zero.   

Upon his return from Romania, our son discovered we had bonded with Barkleah and faced separation anxiety. How would we survive when Barkleah moved back to our son’s home?  Like any reasonable adults, we established joint custody. We agreed to weekends with his Daddy, and the week days with his Nana and Papa.  
 
Although Barkleah loved the arrangement, over time, we agreed to have Barklean with us full time. When travel calls, book signings, conferences, and lack of pet friendly hotels, Barkleah is cared for by his daddy. And as many of you know, our son also has Gracie, the African Gray Parrot. Bill and I are trained and ready to Gracie sit at any time. We are parrot friendly, with a six foot tall bird cage in our living room, and a five foot high perch for her comfort. 

Yes. Barkleah may be spoiled, but so are Wendy, Bailey, Carlos, and Gracie.
Our lives are full of laughter, as we care for our pets. 

Do you have a funny story to share? Please leave a comment and I will make sure it is shared with my readers.  

 
 

 

Thursday, August 15, 2013

BARKLEAH, SPOILED, YOU SAY?.



NO, Barkleah is loved.

All  our adult years, Bill and I had medium to large dogs as pets. In fact, my knowledge of small dogs was a bit lacking You might even say, I had many preconceived ideas about those tiny little pets. My world changed in 2006 when my son announced that he had purchased a Toy Fox Terrier.

I spent a few days imagining this 6 foot 4 inch man caring for a 2 pound baby. His hands were large enough to close around little Barkleah and make him disappear. Convinced that all little doggies were spoiled, difficult to care for, and too small to play with, I adopted a wait- and-see attitude.

 
The first time we met Barkleah, his ears flopped on either side of his head, his coal black eyes stared at us in fear, and his little body shook. It was a cold winter day and he wore a tiny blue sweater to protect him from the elements. He snuggled into my son's arms and crawled into a small flannel cuddle sack. Yep. He must be spoiled already.

During one of my doggie-sitting afternoons, I discovered that Barkleah loved to race around the kitchen trying to see if he could keep from being stepped on. Noting he was a drama-king, I worked hard to protect him. When a foot came too close, he screamed as if killed. In order to keep him alive, I no longer wore shoes. At least my bare foot gave me the ability to sense his presence, and look down before moving.


If he was awake, he was continually playing with his squeaky toys. It amazed me at how well he could entertain himself. When he required rest, he insisted on a human lap inside his cuddle sack. If it was really cold, he crawled inside your sweater and nestled on your chest.  Yep. I was getting the idea. Mr. Barkleah would rule our lives.

Barkleah was crate trained. To this day, he goes to the closet every morning to make sure his crate is there. When there's thunder, lightening', or other forces of bad weather, he races to his crate. When he had surgery, he placed himself in the crate and did not venture out until he healed.

It was amusing to see him interact with our black lab, Bailey. Bailey was a beta dog. Easily the sweetest, non aggressive pet in the neighborhood.  She  imparted knowledge to Barkleah. He soon learned to jump out the dog door. Problem was, his size. The door was installed for an 85 pound lab. He nosed the door opened and jumped out, scraping his tummy on the frame and landing ten inches below. Ouch! He worked on his technique and eventually mastered this Evil Knievel..

Bailey taught Barkleah how to protect the family from intruders. Bailey took the lead, but Barkleah was the lookout. He could hear the UPS man sneak onto the porch, the neighbors walking their dogs half a block away, and the Schwan's truck pulling up across the street. The awesome dodo kept us safe.

Naturally, Bill and I fell hard for this sweet mischievous clown. Are you one of those special people who have had their heart stolen by a little doggie? Please share your stories. We all love to hear about pets.

My next post, I will share how Barkleah came to stay for a visit and never left again.