Meg's Blog


Hello. I was deep in the throes of writing my next novel–which I'm not telling ANYONE about, not even my nearest and dearest, except that it's not a sequel to anything–when suddenly it occurred to me: I have a book out today.

Well, not really a book. It's an engagement calendar. A totally cute one. It's called The Princess Diaries Royal Engagement 2005 Calendar, with illustrations by Chesley McLaren, the genius behind the illustrations in Perfect Princess and Princess Lessons. You should be able to find it in just about any bookstore, or you can order it online, here.

I worked on this calendar–which is more of a datebook, for recording your very important soccer practices and balls and things–very hard, because not only did I have to get all the US, Canadian, and UK holidays, but I had to remember to put in all the Genovian holidays as well, such as St. Amelie Day (Mia's namesake) and also come up with tons more Random Acts of Princess and princess tips.

Anyway, I'm sure you'll love it, but get your copy soon, because you know what happens to calendars: after a while, they stop printing them. There's a limited print run on this one, so get a copy soon, while you still can.

You would think that on the day a new book comes out, someone would send the author flowers or something, but that's not what happens. At least, not to me. I got to spend my day, when I wasn't working on my new book, chasing Henrietta around with a syringe.

Those of you who attended my chat Friday at www.megcabotbookclub.com (you can read an archive of it online on the Live Chat page if you missed it) know that I mentioned Henrietta was throwing up. Well, by midnight that night, she was really, really sick. I was up all night, I was so worried about her. And she wasn't just throwing up, either. It was not pretty.

So first thing in the morning we took her to the Key West Animal Clinic, and she had a temperature of 103 (100 is about normal for a cat) which is very, very sick! The vet, Dr. Butch, was soooo good. He actually took hold of her little cat head and stared deeply into her one eye, murmuring to her in a strange cat language—like a cat whisperer! I have never seen a vet do this before, but if I had become a vet, like I always wanted to, I hope I would be a vet like Dr. Butch. He completely hypnotized Henrietta! She LOVED him!

Until he started poking her in the stomach to see what was wrong with her.

Anyway, he figured out right away that she had a parasite, and gave us antibiotics and these syringes pre-filled with this chalky stuff I have to shoot in her mouth. The first time I did it, I didn't get it in deep enough, and she spat it out all over my hallway. It was like someone had been brushing his or her teeth, and just spat toothpaste on the floor instead of the sink. Nice.

So now I squirt it in and hold her mouth shut. You can imagine how much she enjoys this. She hasn't come out from under the bed in 6 hours.

The pill I have to push down her throat is even worse. Dr. Butch said to roll it in margarine so it goes down easier, but this doesn't seem to make it any better to Henrietta. She hates me SO MUCH right now.

On the plus side, her fever is gone, and she's back to her old persnickety self. I know it's boring when people go on about their pets, so I'll just tell you that Henrietta is very fussy, and likes things just so. And if they aren't just so, she cries. Like a princess.

So sometimes I call her Fancy, as in Henrietta Fancy Pants, which I imagine would be her “show” name, if she were a pure bred cat, with a heritage line and all of that.

More embarrassingly, sometimes I pretend we're in a fancy European hotel, which is the only kind of hotel Henrietta would stay in, and that someone is paging Henrietta over the lobby sound system. I go, all loud, “Paging Miss Pants. Miss Fancy Pants. Telephone call for Miss Pants, Miss Fancy Pants.”

Sometimes she actually comes out from under the bed when I do this.

But usually not.

Now that I've thoroughly embarrassed myself, I will tell you the most horrible thing about the trip to the vet's. All of Henrietta's past vets just said her blind eye was probably caused by an infection, which is what the woman who found her as a tiny kitten, from whom I got her, told me as well.

But Dr. Butch said Henrietta's bad eye looks to him like a puncture wound! Like something—or someone—POKED her in the eye, since the damage went through the cornea, into the iris.

I swear, when he said that, I almost passed out. Because I hadn't had any breakfast or sleep the night before because of the cavalcade of cat barf and worrying about Henrietta and all. I actually had to sit down on the chair in his office, I felt so sick. Can you imagine doing something so awful to an innocent little kitten? I hope it was an accident, and whoever poked her in the eye as a kitten didn't do it on purpose. Poor, one-eyed Henrietta!

Anyway, Henrietta is on the mend, and as I was writing this came downstairs to claw my office carpet, and cry about something that's bothering her as she did so (probably the water in her bowl isn't chilled enough. I'm serious. This is how much of a princess she is).

If I don't post again before the 4th, I hope you have yourselves a great one. Think of me, nursing my tiny sick cat, and read Louise Rennison's “Away Laughing On a Fast Camel.” It's our new book for the book club (live chat July 25).

Okay, bye for now.

More later.

Much love,


PS Don't forget: Princess Diaries Royal Engagement 2005 Calendar!