Author Profile: Grace Sloop

One day while I was singing around the family farm, a tornado came up that blew me and my dog all the way to a magic land, where my house landed smack on an old lady with excellent taste in fashionable footwear. The next thing I know, a bunch a short people show up out of nowhere and start singing, “Ding Dong. The witch is dead,” which I took to mean she was the landlord. So I swapped my cow poo covered rubber boots for the old bag’s ruby red slippers and headed for the hills in case she woke up and tried to take them back.

Okay, so that is not exactly my life story, but I did grow up on a farm in Kansas and I did have a dog. He wasn’t a little dog though. He was more of a medium sized dog. His name wasn’t Toto either. In fact, I don’t think I know of any dogs named Toto in the whole state of Kansas. Maybe it’s a law or something. My aunt in Missouri had a little terrier mix named TinkerBob who farted a lot though. Does that count?

Now I live in the Eastern US with my husband, two children, and a bulimic cat that also farts a lot.