Category Archives: Big Stone Gap

Val-Kyttie, Quite Possibly the World’s Most Sarcastic Cat

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VAL-KYTTIE, BOOKSTORE MANAGER, SURVEYS HER DOMAIN

We have a small problem at our bookstore. For those of you new to this blog, my husband and I own, operate, and live above a bookstore called Tales of the Lonesome Pine housing 38,000 books. That’s what my upcoming book is about–all the silly things we did six years ago to get this place going, and all the crazy, fun, bittersweet things happening since.

One of the things that is NOT in the book is that we foster animals at our store, offering them temporary shelter until they can find a loving forever family. Mostly we rescue cats, but we have taken in the occasional litter of puppies. With some 7,000 domestic animals euthanized in the States every DAY, we do our part to keep as many as we can out of the shelter.

Very noble, right? Except our two staff cats do not agree. Val-Kyttie, 16, and Beulah, 6, understand nothing about their brothers and sisters in the shelter needing our help. Or maybe, being cats, they understand but just don’t care. Whatever the reason, they have taken to spraying to announce their displeasure at the adorable fluffy kittens gamboling across our shop floor–to the coos and awws of customers who used to come and pet THEM.

We talked to our cats about the perils of jealousy, and explained they themselves had once been abandoned strays, so why should they begrudge poor orphan kitties a home? They remained unmoved. We threw out some fifty books before we realized this wasn’t going to stop.

Spraying is not something you want to happen in a shop where books are stacked and shelved floor to ceiling. Jack and I now know about six different ways to save a book from cat pee. (Instructional video coming soon to fine K-Marts everywhere….)

While we pride ourselves on being able to rescue just about any book–battered paperback, dust jacket, even leather embossed covers–our strategy really lies in prevention. Both staff cats now wear pretty purple collars that release calming pheromones. We buy special magic elixir ($25 a bottle, thank you) that thoroughly eradicates the smell and discourages cats from returning to mark the same spot.

And on the advice of the Internet (yes, I know) that cats dislike pine and citrus scents, I invested in air freshener stock and  loaded up on those little Renuzit cone things, smelling of oranges. I by far prefer the lavender ones, but anything was worth it to keep the cats from harming any of our inventory.

We set the cones strategically about the bookstore, and had several customers comment on how pleasant the place smelled. (I love the smell of old books: dust and ideas mingled together. Now ours had orange blossom wafting in as well.)

It was all going swimmingly until Heather, our ever-vigilant, miracle-working cleaning lady spotted one of the cats, er, spotting in the bathroom. Val-Kyttie took out a whole stack of Danielle Steels with one thrust.

What can we say; her aim was true.

Then she minced one delicate step to the left and sprayed the orange air freshener, knocking it over like a bowling pin, before turning to saunter past Heather out of the bathroom.

Heather swears that Val-Kyttie winked.

We’ve instigated a few changes in the ol’ home bookstore. We no longer keep books on the floor; they are above the “strike zone.” The cats still wear their pretty purple collars, and they seem to be adjusting to our status as a cat rescue station. Heather keeps an eye out for occasional lapses, but these are fewer and farther between as the weeks pass. Our bookstore now smells pleasantly of dust, ideas, old books, cleaning fluid–and lavender.

The Day I Stole a Bible from Wal-Mart

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It all started so innocently……

Jack and I had moved to Big Stone Gap and were settling in preparing to run our used bookstore. Of course there were a dozen little household items we needed, that we either left behind at the old place or couldn’t find in the boxes festooned across our new home. Among these was my daily devotional Bible.

And some clean underwear, in case you’re interested.

We avoid Wal-Mart as a rule, but when you need a lot of detritus fast, and you’ve just spent all your money moving house, well, sometimes the runner stumbles. Up and down the aisles we trundled, filling the hand basket with dishrags (which I now crochet for us out of cotton thread purchased at BSG’s own craft store, Mendoo’s) cleaning products (which we buy at the locally owned drug store across the street) and my new devotional Bible–except the basket was pretty full so I carried the Bible and a six-pack of Hanes for ladies clutched against my chest. I didn’t mind if people saw me buy white cotton briefs, but I didn’t want anyone seeing what size they were…

As Jack unloaded the basket, I said, “Look, they have a McDonald’s at the front; shall I go ahead and pick up lunch so we can save time eating while we drive back?” (For those of you who have ever moved, you know that time slides away like the proverbial greased pig–which we were about to eat.)

Judge us freely, but there it is; we not only shopped at Wal-Mart, we purchased food at the conveniently located Mickey D’s inside it. We are going to Hell.

Leaving Jack unloading all those tiny items, I walked out of the store–straight through those little shoplifter-sensing beepy things. Apparently Wally-world doesn’t put sensors on Bibles or Granny panties.

I joined the long queue at the McDonald’s counter still clutching these now-stolen goods to my chest. It wasn’t until I set them unthinkingly on the counter to pay for the food that realization dawned.

The blood drained from my face; no doubt “THIEF” appeared in letters of fire across my forehead. The harassed burger flipper looked from my stricken expression to the undies and sacred text on her counter, then back at me. Without missing a beat, she reached under the counter and produced a burger bag.

“Here,” she said. “If it was me, I could just about explain taking them out of the store, but not trying to sneak them back in.” She glanced at the long line of impatient patrons behind me, then smiled. Leaning in, she beckoned me closer, and whispered, “Besides, I don’t really think God minds if you steal a Bible; just don’t tell Him about the underwear.”