This creepy book is one that I’ve only read once, and once is enough. It’s just too depressing and creepy. Back in 1979, King was a writer-in-residence at the University of Maine, when he came across an informal pet cemetery, where local children buried cats and dogs that got hit on a busy road.
During his time there, his daughter’s cat was an unfortunate victim of the road, as well as an incident where his son Owen was running and was narrowly pulled back before crossing the dangerous road. King then put those autobiographical elements together into the book. Given those real events, however, King doesn’t really like the novel and thought it was too close to home, so he wasn’t going to publish it. It was just his contractual obligations that brought it to the mainstream.