Dr. Watson – In Traci’s words:
Dr. Watson is our first dog ever. In our whole lives, neither my husband, nor I ever had a dog before this one. He’s not a Nuevo-designer dog. He’s a real live mutt. Part Pug, part Rat Terrier, part Chihuahua. He has the Pug’s barrel body, the buggy Chihuahua eyes, and the skinny legs of the Terrier and Chihuahua. He has eye-catching ruddy fur that is as soft as silk. And he thinks he’s the boss of the world.
We’re pretty huge Doyle fans at our house, and so Dr. Watson seemed a good name, before we got to know this guy’s personality. But now that we know him, only Napoleon really fits. He’s truculent, stubborn, and pouty. He wants to be the boss of everything, and he thinks the whole world is his territory.
When he was big enough for his first vet appointment—all of six or seven pounds–the vet came out to see us with a very serious look on his face.
“Your dog is a biter.” He said. (Technically this was the vet’s husband speaking, but that’s too complicated to get into.)
We laughed like doting dog parents. “He sure does like to nip!” we said.
“No. He bites. It is dangerous and you have to train him to stop.” He looked at our two-year old daughter with sad eyes. “To protect your kids, you need to have the baby lie on top every day and be the one who feeds him. Teach him where he belongs in your family and he won’t hurt anyone.”
It seemed like sound advice, and matched up with what the Dog Whisperer has to say in similar circumstances, so we did all of that. The result is that our Dr. Watson believes firmly that he is third in line in our family structure. I’m #1, Lucy (now 7) is #2, and the rest of the family is well behind him. This frustrates my husband when he tries to walk the dog, but as Watson has never bitten anyone, ever, I consider it quite a coup!
Adopting Dr. Watson from the shelter is the best decision our family ever made, I have to say. Nothing compares to the love this dog has given us: not our trip to Disneyland, not the big trampoline, nothing.
Our other dog, the free Pomeranian from Craigslist…he’s a different story…
Traci Tyne Hilton
Traci Tyne Hilton is the author of The Mitzy Neuhaus Mystery Series, The Plain Jane Mystery Series, and one of the authors in The Tangle Saga series of science fiction novellas. She was the Mystery/Suspense Category winner for the 2012 Christian Writers of the West Phoenix Rattler Contest, a finalist for Speculative Fiction in the same contest, and has a Drammy from the Portland Civic Theatre Guild. Traci serves as the Vice President of the Portland chapter of the American Christian Fiction Writers Association.
Traci earned a degree in History from Portland State University and still lives in the rainiest part of the Pacific Northwest with her husband the mandolin playing funeral director, their two daughters, and their dogs, Dr. Watson and Archie.
More of Traci’s work can be found at http://www.tracihilton.com
Coco and Pom Pom – In Mike’s Words:
Coco loves to be chased, and Pom Pom loves to chase. They tear after each other, running up the stairs in less than a second, and flying down the hall in a flash. Every now and then the tables will be turned, and Coco will suddenly be chasing Pom Pom. Kitty and I have so much fun just watching our little boys romp through the house. Sometimes we will pour ourselves a glass of wine and sit together on our sofa, watching Coco and Pom Pom chase each other, wrestle, play tug-of-war, suddenly pounce on one another, and playfully stalk each other. Kitty and I have the best entertainment ever, watching the boys at play. They make us feel good, and they make us laugh.
Michael Meyer
A writer of international suspense stories, Michael has also published a memoir about his journey with Coco, Pom Pom and Kitty.
EXCERPT
It is amazing how time helps. In time, I have learned to overcome my own albatross. I have learned to live again, to love again. Life is a gift reads a plaque on our dining room wall, and that sums up what I have gained from the three kitties that saved my life. From Coco, I learned to care again. From Kitty, I learned to love again. From Pom Pom, I have learned how to cope with my own demons, the effects of aging being one of these. Pom Pom has taught me to accept what is and then to move onward. Yes, I have learned plenty from my three kitties.
Find out more about Michael Meyer at: http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Meyer/e/B005E7M8CW/
Sunday Morning I loaded the dogs in the car for our daily trip to the park. With the crazy freeze-thaw cycles we’ve been seeing, the roads are a mess of pot holes. I hit one right after I turned onto Virginia Avenue and was relieved that I didn’t damage my tire.
We were sitting at the next intersection. No birds were singing, but the sun was shining and my pups were barking as they always do when they’re excited.
A horn started beeping repeatedly. I turned around, trying to figure out what they were beeping at. Nothing. The horn continued. I looked to my left. The woman in the car next to me was waving vigorously at me.
Huh? I rolled down my window.
“You’re leaking,” She said.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll check it out.”
The light changed and I drove on. I always stop at the Big G convenience store for coffee, so I pulled in there to take a look. I figured it to be something minor.
I got out and walked to the rear of my car. Gas was gushing out in a stream, creating a puddle in the parking lot.
I went into the store and got my coffee (The tank had been almost empty before it started leaking, which was why I wasn’t worried about creating a bio-hazard). I know that probably sounds bizarre to many of you. I used to work in a drug and alcohol rehab, where crisis was served up daily on the menu. Back then I created a mantra: “If someone isn’t breathing, call 911. If you don’t need to call 911, it can wait five minutes.” I started the habit of pausing when something crazy happens to avoid making the situation worse through knee-jerk reactions (Something I witnessed many times).
The leak slowed to a dribble, then stopped. The engine still started, so I took a chance and drove the mile back home. My landlord, Rudy, was out with his dogs. I told him about the leak on my way into the house.
He knocked on my door a little later. “You’ve got a bullet hole in your gas tank. I heard shots last night, that was probably it.” He took me outside and knelt on the asphalt, pointing up under the car.
The hole on the side of my tank was punched in, slightly oval. No marks marred the pristine steel around the tank.
“It had to be a bullet,” He said. “Nothing else would blow off your undercoating like that. I’ve seen plenty of bullet holes, that looks to be .25 caliber, maybe .32, no larger than 9 mil.” He was puzzled as to how the bullet got between my tire and fender to hit the side of my tank.
Officer Ward was dubious. He didn’t see how a bullet got up under my car like that.
“I figured it someone was being stupid last night (shooting off a gun for the hell of it, as opposed to intentionally trying to hit something) and it ricocheted up off the road.”
“Where was it parked last night?”
“Same spot.”
He did not call out CSI. He did decide that if it was a stray bullet, it likely came from the apartments behind my house, the only place in line with the hole.
Officer Ward was still not convinced, seeing as the car didn’t start leaking until I was on the road that morning. He said he would file a report stating that “something” punctured my tank, and if the mechanic found a bullet inside, to save it for him and he would amend his report.
I’ve thought some more. I figure someone took the shot and the bullet was losing velocity when it bounced off the pavement. It hit my tank with just enough force to pierce the wall, but then it stopped, lodging in the hole. When I hit the pot hole, the bullet popped out, starting the leak.
The big question is, did it fall into the tank, or back out onto Virginia Avenue? I’ll find out when I pick up my car.
Sierra and Dakota – In Sharon’s Words:
Meet two dogs that nobody wanted: Sierra, a Catahoula Leopard Dog, and Dakota, an Australian Cattle Dog/Husky mix. The Big Man Upstairs led us to them, and they now have a happy forever home. I’m not sure who is happier, us or them, because they are the best friends ever for their Humans.
I’ve got to give a lot of credit to the pet stores that host pet adoption days, because it works. We’d gone to buy dog food for our elderly dog, and the homeless dogs were positioned right outside the front door. One look at Dakota and we were hooked. She was gorgeous, calm, friendly, and did really well on the test walk that they allow you. Little did we know the havoc she was about to bring into our lives.
Her misdeeds were many, and we realized early on that this dog needed to run. Walking just wasn’t going to cut it for her breed, so we spent $4,000 to install a six-foot fence. The trouble was that the fence was only on three sides, because the fourth side was a pond.
It was her first day out in the yard, running free, and she was overjoyed. No dog could have been happier than Dakota that day. Then the neighbor came out, on the other side of the fence with his dogs, and that’s where the trouble started to brew.
His habit was to throw a tennis ball far out into the pond for his dogs to fetch. Dakota hadn’t paid any attention to the pond until she saw dogs swimming out there, and the light bulb of brilliance shined over her head.
“Hey, those are dogs out there! And I’m a dog… and they’re in the water… so… here goes nothin’!”
Before we could stop her, Dakota jumped into the water. Startled by the unexpected texture, she jumped immediately out again. We were relieved. Crisis averted. We reached out to grab her collar.
But no, once she realized that the water wasn’t half bad, and those other dogs were having FUN, she jumped backed in.
Dogs are a LOT faster than people, so if they aren’t on a leash and decide to take off, that’s it. Dog gone.
She went around the fence and up into the neighbor’s yard, where all hell broke loose. We heard dogs screeching and yowling like they were having a big dog fight. We couldn’t see through the six-foot wooden fence, and it was a long way around in the other direction. We ran as fast as we could, scared to death that we’d find her in a bloody heap on the other side.
Our neighbor had two big dogs, each of which outweighed her by double. I don’t know what happened, but when we got to her, all three dogs were okay, and the neighbor had put his dogs up in a pen. She’d had enough freedom for the day and we were able to get ahold of her easily.
That was a scary day for us. All we could think of was, “Oh no! She can’t go back to the dog pound! We promised her that she’d never see those terrifying walls again. We promised a forever home. If she takes off up the road and the dog catcher finds her before we do, she’ll think we lied. She’ll never trust us again. Or worse, they might put her down before we find her.”
So many thoughts go through your head, so quickly. Horrible thoughts, with miserable endings. We got her back safe and sound that day, but it was the first of many big scares where we feared for her life. Dakota was not an easy dog.
Four years later, the elderly dog had long since passed away and we went to the pet store for dog food. The bluest eyes looked up at us from the most serenely beautiful face, and Dakota got a sister that she didn’t want…
Sharon Delarose
Dakota’s forever home is with Sharon Delarose, author of the coffee table and Kindle books An Acre of America Backyard Nature Series and Back Yard Nature Kids which highlight all the cool animals, bugs, and plants that live in your back yard with full color photos and stories.
Dakota’s first year in her forever home is also a book with photos. Sharon also writes about extraterrestrial aliens, in both fiction and non-fiction, including Alien Nightmares, Ancient Aliens and the Lost Islands, and Fomorian Earth: Star Borne: 1.
Dakota’s book is Bad Dog to Best Friend and you can get it for Kindle, Nook, Kobo, audiobook, and even in paperback.
From bad dog to best friend, Dakota’s story takes you through her first year with us. From pottying all over the house, chewing and destruction, Dakota was transformed into a dog who could be trusted with full run of the house all day.
Don’t give up on your dog and abandon him to a shelter. You have the power to save your dog from a life of revolving doors and people who don’t want him. Locked inside of every bad dog is a good dog who just needs a bit of encouragement to come out.
You can find out more about Sharon at her website: http://www.sharondelarose.com
“Avoid tangents,” “Eliminate everything that doesn’t advance the plot.” Current wisdom for fiction advises lean prose that races to an inevitable conclusion.
This reminds me of trips I took with my father, with all essential stops scheduled, the shortest route mapped. A month before my dad left on a road-trip, he could tell you his time of arrival within a 15 minute window.
Dad always had the end in sight. He had no room for deviation. “That looks cool,” I would say, and we would whip by without slowing. Forget back roads. There were no side trips. We were never late, even when being on time didn’t matter.
I think the current fashion for excluding everything ‘irrelevant’ is making for boring books. It sure takes the fun out of mysteries and thrillers when everything serves the plot.
Instead of matching wits with a killer, I am analyzing an author, looking for an apparently unnecessary character in the first two chapters. That’s the killer, no matter how unlikely. Period. Because everything has to wrap up nice and tight, so nothing is ever extraneous.
I enjoy diversions in a book. They break up the relentless drive to culmination. It’s in these spaces that we get a peek at our characters, beyond the central crisis of the story. We can kick back with them, spend a little quality time. The interstate will still be there when we’re ready to move on.
Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries by C.A. Newsome 