Gracie is a fifteen-year-old domestic shorthair that I almost did not adopt. I wanted her brother, a Maine Coon mix, and she was being fostered along with him. When I first met her she was tiny, whiny, and covered in milk that she spilled all over herself. By the time my neighbor’s daughter had taken her home, though, I’d guilted myself into taking her. I couldn’t bear the thought of separating Tig and Gracie when the time came.
She is the model for Goldeneyes, although Julie Dillon’s interpretation is Goldeneyes. My Gracie has green eyes, but in all other respects, I used to think of her when I wrote. Now I think of the Catmage on the cover. (Julie is just that good.)
Here she is, Princess Gracie. Gracie, say hello. Gracie. Gracie?
