Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

The Plight of Pimples

“Go on. Spit it out,” said Pickles.

“Well, ya see, Grandpa and I were out in the barn one afternoon, when Pimples came running in. Grandpa growled that he was sick to death of rats eating the grain, and before I could stop him, he pulled out his shot gun and blew him away.”

The girls gasped. Tears began pouring down their cheeks. “Oh, poor little Pimples,” cried Piper. “I loved that little chihuahua.”

“I know he looked like a little rat, but how could Grandpa shoot him?” cried Pickles.

“Well, Emma and I think they both might have the early stages of Dementia,” replied the farmer.

“You mean their losing their minds?” asked Pickles.

“That would explain our coversation with Grandma,” said Piper.

Farmer McFadden pulled into the gravel drive that lead to his farm. “I’ll drive you girls to your grandparents after supper. If it makes you feel any better, I gathered him up in my shirt, and gave him a proper burial in our family pet cemetary.”

It did help. Both girls had pictured the worst – Grandpa tossing Pimples’ little body in the field for the Turkey Vultures to feed on. “Thanks, Farmer Mac,”


My name is Yochana, or Yo, for short. Growing up on a farm in southeastern Ohio was pretty lonely, so books and art became my best friends. I wrote my first piece of "fan fiction" in fourth grade. It was based on the movie, "The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman," starring the late Cicely Tyson. That same school year, I wrote a poem that my teacher sent off to a publisher friend. He told her to give me a few years. A little over 20 years later, my poems were published. That to me was a few years. Since then, I've been a reporter who horrified the editors with my grammar skills, wrote for campus publications, written humorous company training manuals, and have written three books. These days, I'm back on the farm taking care of my mom, and living in a '95 Jayco Eagle Mini-motorhome with my cat, Lillie, and three grandkittens. (Thanks, Lillie.)

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