Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Revealing Interview With Author , Sportster the Cat

Sportster, your fans are excited that you have agreed to do this interview and I am honored and privileged to be a part of it. I am happy that we can finally bring some of the fans’ questions to light.

You are such a handsome and patriotic feline. And because it is my job to field your fan mail, I know there are many she-cats out there in Face Book land who love you. The question I am asked most often is what breed of cat are you?

 Well, Mom, I mean Judy, you’re right. I do have a lot of fans. My blog, The Cat’s Perspective of Reading, Writing and Life, has thousands of followers and they all have helped to solve that mystery.

Judy: Really?

Yes, they have scratched through hundreds of photos in cat books, blogs, tweets and Pinterest and have made a decision.  I am a Bengal. 

 That is exciting!  From my research, Bengals are known for their talkative and loving nature. But they can be very naughty if you ignore them too much. That certainly describes you, Sportster.

Sportster: I detest being ignored. There is no excuse for that
Judy: Sometimes I get  very …..

Sportster: It’s inexcusable.

Judy: Okay, let’s move on. There are plenty more  secrets your  readers want to know about you. The next common curiosity most people have about you is they want to know how long you have been writing and what motivated you to pursue such a lofty endeavor?

Sportster:  I began writing in 2015. You had just finished your third book, MASADA’S MARINE, and you were making noises  about never writing again because the subject matter had been so emotional for you.  So, I jumped at the chance to play with the keyboard. If you remember, you were always chasing me away from the computer. You came very near to crushing my creativity. Why did you do that? Were you afraid of a little completion?

Judy: No, I….

Sportster: You’re always telling me what to do. In fact….

Judy: Sportster, please. Let’s move on. Quit twitching your tail.  Your readers want to know, what motivates you?

Sportster: As if you had ever bothered to ask.
I have things to say.  I think about “What if?”  I watch people, always running around and missing out on the important signs in life. 
People need to learn how to slow down and appreciate the simplicity of a twisty tie or a rubber band.
Everyone needs to be more practical. For me, I examine all the angles before I leap. And I try to keep my life simple.
 If my presence upsets you, I don’t feel compelled to cow to your issues, nor do i feel it is  my obligation to do so, although I will allow you your own space.
 People need to treat each other with the same respect that  the philosophy live and let live suggests. 
Don't get me wrong. I will not tolerate bullying behavior. I will defend myself.
Live and let live. That’s my motto.

Judy: But your book is called ACTIVATE LION MODE.  Many would argue that the title certainly does not suggest “Live and Let Live.”

Sportster: Of course it does.  That’s exactly why I wrote the book, because folks have lost the ability of reasoning and common sense. Do you know what common sense is?

Judy: Of course I do. Wikipedia describes common sense as sound practical judgment concerning everyday matters, or a basic ability to perceiveunderstand, and judge what is common to nearly all people.

Sportster: I create frightful occurrences in my story line, which make for a page turning book. At the same time these tragedies have a universality  and are becoming common scenarios in this complex world in which we live. I want my readers to realize how easily these real misfortunes could happen to them. 

Judy: I am not sure I understand.

Sportster: For an example, every time you poured milk into my bowl, I became aware of the hundreds of children’s photos on the milk cartons. Common sense should set off the alarms that the multitude of missing children on those cartons might be related to something bigger, like human trafficking, which has become a crime larger and uglier than drugs. But instead,  even after staring at the photos day in and day out, the American public believes  it only happens to other families in other countries.
No common sense.

Another example. I never discuss politics. I do not watch the news. I am only a cat. But I knew four months before the election, without a doubt, that Donald Trump was going to become our next President.

As you and I drove east from California across the country on Route 66, we saw Trump’s face a thousand times a day, on every poster, in every yard, in every town and in every state from Arizona to Illinois.If anyone took the time and effort to look, they would not have been surprised.
Common sense. 
Many folks  have lost the ability for common sense. They invest their trust in others, allowing people they do not even know to tell them what is real and how to react.  No one is curious enough  to take the time, to go on the prowl and sniff out their own territory. They won’t   jump over the fence and get to know their neighbor, or scratch away the dried leaves to discover the stability of the ground they’re standing upon.
Common sense. Examine the angles before you leap. 

Judy: These are all serious and stressful subjects to think about. Let's pounce on a lighter subject as you would say.  Would you like to share with your readers some of your hobbies, what do you do for fun?

My favorite things are smelling all the varieties of flowers I have discovered. And even though it is very scary, I find it thrilling to meet the different forms of  wildlife. I love exploring the vastness and uniqueness of nature and can not wish for a better life style.                                   
The creatures whom I meet and the campgrounds which I have prowled make life amazing  and inspirational. All are  great tidbits for my next novel.

 And thank you, Mom, for being my publicist. You have captured what my life is like in these photos.

Judy:  You are an incredible cat, Sportster and quite insightful.  I want to thank you for being so candid with me and your readers.  It is great to have you in my life.
I want to close this interview with one more question which everyone has been asking me. Since I released my latest book, THE GRIEVING GIFT, An Autobiographical Novel, your readers want to know if an autobiographical novel might be perking in your head as you take your long afternoon naps?  Everyone is curious about your extraordinary life.

Sportster: I have thought about it as I dig around in my litter box. That’s where I do my best thinking. If I did, it would be a series, since I have already lived a few of my nine lives.

Judy: There you are folks. I hope you have enjoyed Sportster’s very first interview.

 Don’t forget to check out his debut novel on Amazon, ACTIVATE LION MODE. 

By Judy Howard
By Sportster The Cat
Like the timeless classics movies Lion King and Lassie, ACTIVATE LION MODE weaves a tale of an adventurous cat with the badass name of Sportster.
Author Judy Howard reaches adults and young adults alike as she steps aside and gives Sportster the Cat free reign to narrate his story whose universal theme is the desire to live free. Sportster relates his adventures with a candid, confidence, that can only come from a cat’s point of view. 
As always, Howard addresses the current serious issues facing not only our youth but also our society’s moral structure.
Follow along as Sportster activates lion mode and learns to live on his own, in the wild, while discovering what is really important in life. Sportster tells his story in this page-turner expertly as only a coddled cat could do.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

A Feline's Fury

Hi everyone! Sportster here. So glad you came by to give me a pat on the head. I've been so busy living full time in the RV,  it is just that  -- a full-time  job.
Here is a chapter from my latest book, ACTIVATE LION MODE.
If you are intrigued, twitch your tail and pounce on the link below to take you to  Judy's Amazon Author page and check out my book and all of Judy's.

Judy Howard's Amazon Author Page

The moon was high. The starlight, dimmed from the city’s lights, had lost its sparkle. For the amount of bodies strewn across the asphalt, the makeshift campground surprised me. The bustle had toned down to murmurs, occasional spurts of low laughter, and the sporadic bark of a dog.  A good time to move out.  I studied my foster family one last time. Jawbreaker sensed something was astir and lifted his head. I ignored his watchful eye, and headed out. When I looked back, he padded behind me, probably thinking I was taking a bathroom break. I stopped, jerked around, and hissed.  Jawbreaker’s eyes widened, heeded my warning, and sat down. His big mouth drooped as I spun around and sprinted off into the night.
I jogged along the road we had come in on. The city offered drainage ditches, underpasses, and an occasional abandoned building for hiding.  Only two trucks passed. 
Maintaining a steady pace, I made time.  No sign of bears or elk. No woodpeckers or hawks, but I jerked to a halt. I caught scent of an odor I had never experienced, but instinct told me it was the smell of death.  I froze and began to tremble. I wanted to run, return to my Green Berets and Jawbreaker, but chilling fear held me in place.
 I recalled Judy pointing out the dead furry bodies along the roadside. “Do you see that, Sportster? Bad things can happen if you aren’t careful.” She would shake her finger at me and say, “You have to stay close to home.”
 Well, I wasn’t close to home, thanks to her, but I would be careful.  I gathered my courage and followed the scent. On the edge of the road lay the ghastly carcass of a kitten.  I belted out a yowl that pierced the night and hightailed it. I didn’t stop until my lungs begged for air and my legs screamed for relief. With a last burst of energy, I dove into a   large pipe leading under the freeway.  Rancid water splashed in my face as I sprinted toward the dim moonlight at the end of the tunnel.  My stomach hurled, and I gagged from the offending stench but kept going.  The passageway opened into a concrete ditch enclosed by cyclone fencing.  Without slowing, I rushed the line of chain link. With my momentum, I scrambled over the top, spurred by the ear piercing rattle of the metal, and leaped down on the other side. With the barrier between me and the crime scene, I stopped and caught my breath.
 I had landed in another parking lot. A large Elk, his head held high, sporting a wide rack of horns stood in front of a building.  I balked again, my hair on end. Wait. It was a statue. This was an Elks Lodge. Judy and I had camped at many of these facilities. They were fraternities of sort, their symbol, the Elk, usually guarded its entrance.  I scanned the parking area. Several RVs nestled in the rear of the property. One looked like our motorhome.
My chest pounded in anticipation, but I crept along the brick wall that met the fencing.   It was a long, but safe way around to the vehicle.  I must be cautious. Like most campgrounds at night, all was quiet. My heart raced as I neared the motorhome. Judy had not made it easy for me to find her.  She would be happy to see me.  I imagined her reaction after six nights without me. She would feed me my favorite treats and kiss my face while I pretended to hate her gushing. Judy mentioned perhaps she might be prone to believe, as the Buddhists do, in reincarnation.  They believe that pieces of the soul of a deceased loved one can be reborn into an animal’s soul, thus taking on the passed loved one’s personality characteristics.  “You are so like my Jack.” She would say to me. “He, too, acted like he hated my sweet talking, but I think deep down he loved it, just like you do Sportster.” I purred remembering her words and climbed onto the motorhome’s porch.
My heart sank when my paw touched the first step. This was not our home. Strangers’ scents coated the porch and the door. My tail drooped.  My heavy spirit weighed me down, accenting my exhaustion.  I crawled onto the porch.  Too tired to be careful, I curled up, tucked my nose under my flank and closed my eyes.
  The warm morning sun and the motorhome’s rocking movement woke me. I moved to a more covert position under the vehicle. Voices inside only mumbled until the door’s lock made a familiar click and a man spoke clearly.  “There you go, Annabelle. Why can’t you let us sleep late just once?”
The door slammed shut as a soft ball of fur glided down the steps. Grey paws reached out from Annabelle’s plush body and carried her to the ground. She performed her own yoga stretch, her elbows flat on the asphalt, and her butt in the air.  She must have seen me because her tail gyrated, then kinked into a small hook at the tip, as if calling me.
I sprang to my feet and approached like a peep on twitter, chirping my intentions, my exhaustion forgotten.  She turned, acted startled, her icy blue eyes grew large. I chirped again, more of an alluring trill this time. She stood her ground. Her tail flagged back and forth.
I presented myself, nose to nose, and suddenly   became aware of my unkempt condition. My cologne was the rancid tunnel water from yesterday. My tail, erect and vibrating, exhibited a glaring bald spot from Jawbreaker’s attack.  I quickly lowered it before she noticed. I rolled over, showed her my soft underbelly … and the burrs embedded in my coat.  I had been too fatigued last night to groom myself. Shame spurred me to jump up. I dashed away into the bushes.

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Take One Minute to Remember

Take One Minute To Remember

Today, as I do almost every day, I became quiet. I took a minute. Only a minute in which I thought about who has helped me become who I am. We all have someone who has loved us, cared about us and wanted what was best for us. We all have someone in our life who has loved us into being.

Because it was Father’s Day my thoughts turned to my mother who sheltered me and fed me when I was a kitten.  I never knew my father, but my mom made it work for me and my litter-mates   She swelled up twice her size and roared at intruders. She taught us to hide from strangers in the beginning when we were too young to judge between friend and foe.  She killed for us and we learned when to draw the line between play and the hunt.  I would like to believe my father was cut from the same pelt as my mom and that I carry his heroic and moral genes as well.

My mom taught me to help others because we are all in this game of life together, like the waves and the wind here on the Oregon coast.

For that one minute, as I do every day, I thought about my mom who nursed me and brought me into being who I am today. What ever happened to her I don’t know, but I hope she would be pleased to know the difference she made for me. 

Through her grace and strength, during the hardships of raising me, she taught me that I did not have to be king of a faraway jungle. She taught me that all I had to be was the kitten I was. She assured me that she loved and cared about me, and that she sheltered and fed because it was me she liked.  She allowed me to become the best kitten and cat I could be.

I learned that life is not about the treats, the prizes or the catnip toys that fueled the light inside me. Mom showed me that life is far more than all the trees I see, the scents I   smell, the soft, thick grass I walk upon or the bird songs I hear.

 Because of her I know in the deepest part of me that I can stand up for those invisible things, without which   animal and human kind cannot survive.

Because of her, I believe that love can conquer hatred, that peace can rise up over war, and that justice can prove more powerful than greed.
The platform of life and living she built for me is made of very good stuff.  It is the foundation from which I make my choices.
Take one minute and thank whoever helped you to become the best you are. You will sleep like a kitten.

Please check out my first book, ACTIVATE LION MODE, book one in The Feline Fury Series. Help me to carry the life saving message of this powerful book. 

Besides, my treats are running low.

Book One of the Feline Fury Series

Click on link  for 

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Making mistakes, make us greater.

Beyond the window
Experiential learning is far more powerful than gathering information. Experience is emotional — and emotion, not rationality, is what changes mindsets and behaviors.

I have always been a good cat. Judy tells me I am the best cat in the entire world. Well, except that one time. She pretends to have forgotten, but I know she never will.


It was dark outside, a time when cats like to prowl. I growled and spat  at the front door, defending our territory  against some Millennial Cat who thought he should be able to just move into my pad,  and that we would feed him Temptation treats and  he could rub his furry rear end all over my mom and the rest of my things.
 I body slammed against the heavy security screen which separated us. Screaming at him, I told him to take his lazy, entitled attitude on down the street.
 He screeched back, threatening to call PETA and social services and every other liberal program that had told him he was deserving of everything his meowing furry ass desired.
That’s when it happened. Judy stepped into the heated cat fight. She stepped up behind me.  “Me, too!” she yelled, “I want you out of here!”  
I became confused and flew across the space that separated me from Judy. I flung myself against her leg,  sinking my teeth into her flesh. Her muscles flexed in reaction  and she shouted, this time at me.   “Hey!”
Surprise shot through me. I released my bite hold. What had I done? I had attacked her.  I had went off, like a gun.  She stood there a moment, frozen in place, staring at me. “Sportster?" She said. I will never forget the look on her face.   And then she limped over to a chair.
I sensed her confusion and disappointment in me. I ignored the Millennial Cat outside,  who was the root of the incident,  and I proceeded to rub up against Judy, gushing out  purrs of  apology. A long time passed before she ever told me she had forgiven  me. I didn’t really believe her,  probably because I had trouble forgiving myself. I love Judy. I was so ashamed of what I had done.
In a rush to do what we think is the right thing, sometimes we make mistakes. Other times  there is no opportunity  to consider the options, we just have to go into action.  How do we live with the consequences when, in retrospect, that decision turns out bad?
I learned to accept that we all do the best we can. Guilt is a wasted emotion. –– I must move past what I considered to be a horrible mistake. I must believe there are no mistakes in the universe. Everything happens exactly as it should.
The followers  of this Eastern principle of spirituality believe there is no room in life, if you want to live at peace, for would haves, should haves, or could haves.  Judy says, “ If pigs had wings, they could fly.”  Her other favorite ‘whatever quote’, which she tells me her mother used to say to her is, “ One hundred years from now, who will know the difference?”
In other words, don’t look back. What is over is over.  No regrets and no fear of moving forward.
Sure, I  make mistakes, everyone does. It is my cat nature to never admit  them out loud, but I must  come to terms with what I have done. I agree with the East Indian principle of spirituality. The philosophy  makes sense in this cat's mind.  i do the best that I can. I am not going to become stale and afraid to make a mistake. 

“The better a man is, the more mistakes will he make  ––for the more new things he will try. If you have not made mistakes, and big ones at that,  you will  surely be mediocre.  Peter Drucker

Please check out my first book, ACTIVATE LION MODE, book one in The Feline Fury Series. Help me to carry the life saving message of this powerful book. 

Besides, my treats are running low.

Book One of the Feline Fury Series

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

She's trying to kill me!

I have not kept in touch lately with you all and though cats never apologize ––it is not in the rule book –– I have missed you all, and i feel badly about the entire situation.  Judy has not been her entertaining self these past six months and, well, to be honest, I’m just going to put it out there. 
She has been treating me badly. I know! I can’t believe it either.
 I don’t like to post my dirty cat litter here for the world to see, but Judy really has gotten out of control. I’m resorting to you my readers, blog followers and Facebook friends to help me out.
Like I said, I am a good cat. Judy loves me. At least she used to. So, why do I feel like she’s trying to kill me?

I first suspected she had this inclination after I spent TWO HOURS crouched on the counter next to the kitchen faucet, staring at her.  She looked right at me.  She knew I was staring at her. She knew what I wanted……well, I am almost sure she did. Sometimes people are so clueless. I hate to include her in that category.  But still….
 She tried to disguise her dark intentions by showing me my water bowl. “Here, Sportster. Here's your water.” Her voice was high, sweet sounding, like she really cared that I was thirsty. Meowing, I turned away and rubbed up against the faucet and proceeded to suck the few drops clinging at the end of the faucet.

She pushed me away from the faucet and shoved me over to my water bowl. Stinking  her finger in the water bowl, she splashed the stale water into my face, trying to get me to look.  “Right here Sportster. Take a drink.”

She knows I never drink from the bowl.  What does she take me for?  She’s way too eager for me to drink that water. You know what I mean?

I wracked my brain. This all had started two days ago, when she didn’t wake up after the alarm went off, so I sat on her head. She yelled at me. I chirped, my way of saying, “I’m sorry.”

Maybe she wants to do me in, because I want to go for longer walks. I pester her too much, these days.I never let up, I meow and meow. I pace like a caged lion.  She used to be so good about all these things, getting up on time and tending to all my whims. But now, something’s wrong.
Sometimes she had even swung at me with that stick she carried with her everywhere, telling me to move out of the way of her and the stick. 
If I gave her my sad face, she said, “It will all be better,” she says,” when this is all over.  I will take you on your long walks again, I promise.”  At times her sad voice cried out in pain. I didn’t know what was wrong with her.
I began to seek out other places for water. I padded into the bathroom after she exited. Putting my paws up on the toilet seat, I peered into the bowl.
 She shouted at me. “Oh no you don’t! Scoot right on out of there.” She closed the toilet lid. 

When she took a shower that night I beat my paws against the shower curtain trying to get past the barrier in order to reach the enticing running water. She shouted at me then, too. “You’re going to tear up the curtain!” But I didn’t stop.  Now she keeps the bathroom door closed.

I went three days without water –– except the few sips I sneaked during the night from my bowl while Judy slept.  I was dry as a lizard on top of a hot rock in the Arizona sun.
 On the third day I sat in front of my water bowl, staring at the water. It was beginning to look pretty good.   

Talking on the phone with her girlfriend, Judy watched me.  She laughed while she related my efforts to her friend about how i try to get a drink of water. I wanted to scratch her eyes out.  I pushed her coffee mug off the counter and it clattered to the floor. Darn! It didn't even break.

I couldn’t believe she was trying to kill me and laughing about it, too!

I think this entire situation has something to do with that stick she carries around. She changed after she began taking the thing everywhere with her. 
Something’s not right with her.  Lately, she seems sad, even though now she was laughing.
“He makes me feel so sorry for him," she was saying to her friend. " Poor baby, but I can’t give in.”   
I rubbed  my shoulder up against Judy and she petted me as she talked.
Did you hear what she said? She’s never going to give in to my demands. My throat is so dry I can’t meow anymore. What am I going to do? I am going to die.  I never thought I would go out this way.

She continued on with her phone conversation.
 “The Dr. says he doesn’t want me doing the steps in the motorhome right after my surgery. My rig is parked on the street in front of the house but still, I can’t expect my daughter to come out several times a day for the next four to six weeks, just to turn on the water so he can drink from the faucet. He’s got to learn to drink from his water bowl. That’s all there is to it.”
 Where was she going?  I can’t drink form the faucet AND she’s going to leave me?

Please check out my first book, ACTIVATE LION MODE, book one in The Feline Fury Series. Help me to carry the life saving message of this powerful book. 

Besides, my treats are running low.

Book One of the Feline Fury Series

Click on link  for 

Friday, May 11, 2018

Happy Mothers Day from Sportster and Judy Howard


This  Mother's Day I am excited to announce  Judy and I  are offering  an 
Amazon Countdown Deal

Sportster's latest book


Available for 1.99

MAY 13TH - 8AM

Don't miss this opportunity!
The Countdown Promotion will continue until May 15th. As the days countdown, the discounted price will increase
So Don't Wait!!


I'm honoring my mom, Judy Howard,  this Mother's Day.  Because of her,  I am special. Not many cats have followed in my paw prints.

I experienced my first mother’s day May, 2005. I was eighteen days old and snuggling with my siblings and mom, who lived in a dirt cave behind the bushes that lined the golf course.  I only knew warmth, safety and a full belly. Life was good.

The weeks passed,I grew stronger, and my eyes opened.  I longed to venture out into the world but mom insisted I not go far.

When mom didn’t return from hunting mice on the golf course one night, I waited for her. My siblings cried. After several days my sister, the smallest, quit crying. Her silence prodded me to leave in search for mom.
I wandered the streets, hiding in shrubs when cars whizzed by, and scrambling up trees when the coyotes roamed the golf course. The cold desert nights made me shiver. I ate bugs and drank from the gutter. I was weary but could not stop to rest.

I must have dozed off when the man swept me up. Terrified, I squirmed but his big hands enclosed me like a cage.

That was the day my life changed. I met Judy. On that day I never dreamed  I would live the life I am living.  Ten mother’s days have passed. I know of no other cat who has walked in my paw prints.  This is a tribute to my mom.

Yes, the downside is that she is  a pet groomer. Baths are common and I complain a lot. But afterward I am soft, fluffy, and I smell like lavender.  have never had a flea.  
And she dresses me up. But I am a celebrity now. The demands as  co-author of Judy's first two books, my own blog, and my own book coming out this year are never ending.
Photo shoots are a necessity in marketing. We don't stay on the top limb without  a lot of caterwauling.

All in all, as I review my time with my mom, my life is full of adventure.

How many cats have considered kayaking? ...

... Or traveled across the country with their friends  Tweety Bird and Birdy Bird?

...or prayed on a mountain top?

Because of my mom, I have meditated along  the waters of Slidell, Louisiana.

 ... and researched the living habits of creatures my fellow felines have only known in their dreams.

And I have learned to look to the heavens . 
I've listened to my two  audio books ,COAST TO COAST WITH A CAT AND A GHOST  and GOING HOME WITH CAT AND A GHOST.

Thanks to you Judy Howard, I am the greatest cat in the world!!

So Mom,
This is for you.

I love you this much!!