Book Description

Gabe didn't go looking for the role as Earth's defender against marauding aliens; in fact, quite the opposite. Pet sitter by day, jump-blues guitarist by night, Gabe's plate is, as they say, quite full. He has his ducks all in a row. He and life are reading off the same page. You get the picture. But fate is not some bleeding heart, Mr. Rogers, do-gooder. Oh no. Once he decides that it's Gabe's turn at bat, he reaches out his gnarled hand--or in this case, raccoon paw--clutches Gabe's shoulder, spins him around and impresses in no uncertain terms that the fate of the world is no longer in fate's hands, but that fate has put the fate in his hands. That's Gabe's hands. Adding to the non-trivial problem of saving the world, though, is Gabe's growing suspicion that fate in the form of a raccoon is lying.