A Circus Dog’s Tail ;) of Two Beginnings
I live with A Writer. I also live with A Pragmatist. (I’m a smart dog—I looked it up.) Writer Girl loves a good, emotional story, so here’s the one she tells: another writer friend of hers (these are slippery folks who lie for a living, remember) says she picked me up on a deserted road on a rainy night, no houses around, not a soul in sight. She thought I was a coyote at first, but I was standing in the middle of the road and wouldn’t move, so she stopped. She opened her door and, not being an idiot, I jumped in. She fed me Chicken McNuggets and named me Wally, and life was good.
Except she couldn’t keep me because her mean, fat dog didn’t like me. Who doesn’t like this face?
So she asked Writer Girl to give me a try, and it was love at first sight. The End.
Oh, wait—I’m really good at standing on my back feet for long periods, and I have really great manners (well, except for the occasional slip in a corner after which some unhappiness reigns.) So Writer Girl thinks I’m an escaped circus dog.
Hey…she’s a WRITER. Of ROMANCE, for cryin’ out loud. Cut her some slack. She feeds me.
Mr. Pragmatic, however, is also A Cynic. Here’s his version: There is some little girl somewhere, still crying te
The End. (Hey, he’s a busy guy. He just cuts to the chase.)n years later, wanting to know where Fluffy went. (Seriously? Fluffy? You don’t name a macho guy like me—even if I’m size-challenged—Freaking Fluffy?!?)
The real deal? I’m not telling. I am A Mystery. A Miracle, too. Just sayin’.
P.S. So she can keep feeding me, Writer Girl’s latest release is TEXAS ROOTS, the latest in her Texas Heroes series.