Getting All Pretty for Thanksgiving

Good morning, nice people! 

As you can see, I'm stuck in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture. I don't understand why Mummsy even bothers anymore. I'm old and don't really care how I look or smell anymore. It would be nice if I could just sleep and eat. That's it! That's all I need.

If I were you, I'd stop complaining. Be thankful you're still with us. Besides, Grandpa is coming for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. We have to be at our best. Maybe if you didn't whiz and poo all over yourself, you wouldn't need tortured.

Hmmf! As always your stupid, stupid. Why can't you just agree with me for once!

Stop whining, pansy-boy! People don't like complainers. Count your blessings and help me wish all the nice people a Happy Thanksgiving.

We love your visits, the treats, and the belly rubs you all give!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lots of Licks and belly rubs!

Sir Poops and Hair Ball

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Interview with Zoe and Schroder on Dognapped

 SPAL: We have Schroeder and Zoe with us today.

HB: Yeah. Charmaine Clancy it their mom.

SPAL: And the author to My Zombie Dog.

HB: Yeah. And today her fur-peeps want to share her newest book, Dognapped.

SPAL: I’m definitely reading this one.

HB: But you haven’t read Zombie Dog yet, pansy boy.

SPAL: My reading pile is high, stupid. You think you can do any better?

HB: ***he waves his paw in the space between them***Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.

SPAL: Enough. We’d like to welcome Zoe and Schroder. Hey! What kind of fur-peeps are you?

HB: ***runs about sniffing his guests***

Schr: I'm Schroeder and I'm a miniature schnauzer, just like the main character in Dognapped?

Zoe: The main character in Dognapped? is Kitty, and she's a human girl.

Schr: Well, yeah, sure, she features more, but the story is really about how fantastic miniature schnauzers are. They just make out it's about humans... it's all politics you know.

Zoe: I think you're the one who doesn't know.

Schr: Someone's jealous because the border collie only has a small part in the book!

Zoe: At least Molly, the border collie, was brave.

Schr: Yeah? Well... well... MUMMY! Zoe's pickin' on me!

Zoe: Sook.

Charmaine: Are you two fighting for attention again? Don't make me come in there!

SPAL: It doesn’t help that Hair Ball is up their bums.

HB: ***his nose is at the back of Zoe*** She smells like musky flowers.

SPAL: ***rolls his eyes at Hair Ball*** Who’s your Mummsy?

Schr: Charmaine is the one who brings home the animals, so I guess she's our Mummy.

Zoe: Although I really belong more to the little one. She sneaks me food.

Schr: Yeah, you are Matilda's girl aren't you?

SPAL: We used to have a No-No-O. But she lives with a Yakov, in Israel now. ***he frowns*** Her bedroom was the eternal buffet. But no more. ***he shrugs*** So what does your Mummsy write, draw, or paint? 

Zoe: Matilda is an amazing artist for a pup, I mean child. She also writes great stories and reads them to me.

Schr: Charmaine writes too, Dognapped? is her second book for kids. She likes to draw too, but doesn't think she's very good at it.

Zoe: Maybe we should mention Emily?

Schr: The other kid? She's got the cat.

Zoe: That's a cat?! Looks more like a rat. 

*both dogs snicker

SPAL: I love cats. I miss mine.

HB: ***Lifts his head from Zoe’s bum*** What’s a cat?

SPAL:***he glances at HB*** I’ll tell you later, stupid.***he looks to Soe and Schr*** Anyway, Do you two like hanging out with your Mummsy while she worke on her projects?

Schr: Of course! I help Mummy when she's typing.

Zoe: You mean sit on her lap and get in the way?

Schr: I help.

Zoe: Yeah, I like to help Matilda when she's reading.

Schr: You do know she can't read through that big head of yours?

Zoe: She needs me to lick her face when we get to a scary bit.

SPAL: I know what you mean.

HB: Yeah.

SPAL: I like to sit in my Mummsy’s lap or bedside her when she works.

HB: I like her feet. They taste good.

SPAL: Where do you two like to sit? On her lap? At her feet? Or on her keyboards or crayons?

Schr: I'm definitely a lap dog. But if no one's around, I like to hop up on the couch...

Charmaine: Schroeder! Get off the couch!

Schr: Never mind.

Zoe: I prefer the feet. I like to lick them.

HB: I’m in love.

Schr: You become a lap dog as soon as there's the first sign of thunder!

Zoe: Shhh, don't tell them that.

HB: Zoe can come to my house during a storm. I’ll protect her. ***he puffs out his chest*** I’ll even share my treats with you. What do you and they like to nosh on? And would you be willing to share them with me and pansy boy?

Zoe: My favourite treat is fish oil capsules. Mummy says they're good for us, but they can't be, they taste too good. I also like to drink from the cat's bowl, just to show I'm not scared of her.

Schr: Look out, here she comes!

Zoe: What?! Where?! Oh.

Schr: Hmm, food... I like it all.

Zoe: Literally. He'll eat anything: Lettuce, banana, chilli, socks...

SPAL: Love bananas. But socks are like pantyhose. I got really sick after I swallowed a pair.

Schr: I'm happy to share.

Zoe: Only because no one else wants the crud you eat.

Schr. Crud good.

HB: Crud? Out Mummsy says that about what’s in the garbage can. Crud is pretty tasty.

CH:Thanks Shelly for having Zoe and Schroeder on your blog today, I hope they didn't misbehave too much.

My newest release is Dognapped? A Dog Show Detective Mystery, it's available from Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Dognapped-Show-Detective-Mystery-ebook/dp/B00CRF1BAE

and will be FREE just for May 22nd and 23rd

My first book was My Zombie Dog and is also available from Amazon in Kindle format and paperback:

http://www.amazon.com/Dognapped-Show-Detective-Mystery-ebook/dp/B00CRF1BAE

I love to connect with readers and writers, and can be found at:

Facebook

Twitter

and my blog is: dream... write... publish

SPAL: We loved having all of you today.

HB: I hope Zoe comes back so I can smell her beautiful scent. Hey! Wanna be my girlfriend?

SPAL: We’ll see you all next week. Lots of licks.

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Dog Eat, Dog World

SPAL: Hi, nice people. Hope everyone is having a great week. Everything is great when my tummy’s getting rubbed.

HB: Yeah. Life is great when there’s plenty of nosh and belly rubs and the back of a sofa to lay on.

SPAL: The last time we posted, someone left us a compliment.

HB: Yeah. But didn’t she refer to us as dogs.

SPAL: She did. But it was a nice compliment.

HB: Wasn’t it Joyce Lansky over at Catch My Words?

SPAL: Yeah. She can’t understand why we feel dog is a bad word.

HB: Well, why do we?

SPAL: There’s a quote people like to say: It’s a dog eat, dog world.

HB: So.

SPAL: It doesn’t sound nice. According to Mummsy it’s the two-legged peeps that practice this in business.

HB: Then how come peeps don’t say: It’s a two-legged eat, two-legged world.

SPAL: Because according to Mummsy, most two-legged peeps don’t like to take responsibility for their negative ways.

HB: Oh.

SPAL: The two-legged peeps would be so much happier if they were like us fur-peeps who just want to love and be loved.

HB: Yeah.

SPAL: Here’s a quote for everyone to remember. “Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.” Groucho Marx

HB: We’re like books? ***scratches his head***

SPAL: I guess. If you think about it, Mummsy usually has a book, or one of us in her lap or her lap desk to work on her MS.

HB: Yeah. She does.***rolls over onto his back*** Hey! Isn’t this the last week Daddy-O has chemo.

SPAL: Thank God, yes.

HB: And didn’t Mummsy’s novel, Secondhand Shoes, get chosen to be in the The eFestival of Words Nomination Awards?

SPAL: Yes. It did. Peeps can click this link to go see.

HB: And isn’t Mummsy getting ready to release two of her short stories?

SPAL: Yup. The Partner’s Progeny and Samah Ronit. The cover is almost tweaked for one. She’ll be doing a cover reveal soon.

HB: What about Mummy’s next novel, Killer Stilettos?

SPAL: It should be completely drafted by June 1st.

HB: I’m so excited. ***he rolls over and gets on all fours***

SPAL: Just make sure you don’t whiz on me. Anyway, nice people remember to get you bellies rubbed and to love everybody.

HB: Yeah.

Lots of licks,

Sir Poops and Hair Ball

PS We’re looking for fur or feathered peeps to interview. If interested, leave a message saying so in the comment boxes.

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: Answering Questions and Praising Hair Ball

Sir Poops

Today, I’m going to answer those questions from Melissa Kline(she’s a really nice lady. Pretty, too.) over at Reflections on Writing. A couple weeks ago she gave me and Hair Ball, The Sunshine Award.

So here are my answers to the QUESTIONS:

1. Favorite color? Since I see only in black and white…I guess black and white.

2. Favorite animal? Glowstick.

3. Favorite number? All the even ones.

4. Favorite drink? Chicken flavored water. Mummsy boils a chicken and lets me have the broth. Mmm…mmm good.

5. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook. It’s easier to use.

6. My passion? Writing and eating.

7. Getting or giving? Both.

8. Favorite day of the week? I don’t know. The week to me is like one great, big one.

9. Favorite flower? Ones that smell.

Okay. I answered the questions so now I want to share something special that Hair Ball did. It almost erases the fact that he’s stupid. I discovered he’s got a sweet side, too.

This morning while we were sitting on the couch watching our favorite Disney shows with Glowstick, Hair Ball offered his bone a couple times to the little fellow.

Mummsy handed it back to Hair Ball but he insisted that Glowstick take it. Isn’t that sweet. He’s never shared anything with me ever. He’ll fight me for a bowl of kibble. I’m glad he likes Glowstick. Just wished he wouldn’t bark and make him scream.

Anyway, I’m going for now. I need to go hide. Mummsy is talking about putting me in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture.

See you next week when I name the nice people who I’ll be giving the Sunshine Award to.

Sir Poops

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: Chicken Soup and Popsicles

Hey! It’s me Hair Ball.

I’m in charge of the blog today. And boy do I have a story for you. It’s about my pansy brother, Sir Poops. Mummsy and Daddy-O don’t call him Sir Poops for nothing, either.

So the story goes something like this. Thursday night, me and pansy boy gather in the kitchen around our Daddy-O for our night-night treat of pita bread and Yarlesberg cheese.

Mummsy followed in after because she was home that night. “Don’t feed these boys cheese or bread,” she says. Daddy-O always gives us really good snacks. Mummsy always gives us healthy snacks like carrots and apples.

“They’re gourmet dogs. Just a little won’t hurt them,” Daddy-O says.

Pansy-boy and me agreed.

“A little then,” Mummsy says. “Just remember Sir Poops is sensitive.”

Yeah, I thought, we all know why he’s sensitive. He’s got pansy-boy genes. He’s such a dainty, little fellow.

Okay. So we get us some cheeses and pita, which made us happy. Mummsy put us to bed with our big sister No-No and all was well.

Friday morning came and all was still well. Sir Poops and me had a good breakfast and we went about our day keeping the Boogies away while our parents were at work.

Come that night, Sir Poops decides to poo on the nice, new wood floor. Daddy-O had it cleaned up right before Mummsy got home from work.

Mummsy thought my brother was being his usual picky self about where he wanted to do his business.  Daddy-O didn’t tell her my brother was having The Great Poop Falls falling from his bum. It was a river.

So we go to bed around eleven. Everything’s good. I’m sleeping. Sir Poops is snoring. No-No’s talking in her sleep.

“Owie-owie,” Sir Poops says. “My stomach hurts real bad. Owie-owie.” He cried like a little girl and this horrible smell filled the room like something died.

I get up from my bed and go sniff at him. You know, making sure he’s okay like a good little brother.

Well, he made a big poo all over No-No’s bed so I had to pop her in her head to wake her up. It was a long sleepless night for all of us after that.

So this morning, Mummsy gave him this stuff every fifteen minutes because he wouldn’t stop pooing.

Right now, she’s boiling a whole chicken and some rice just for him.

And he’s gotten like five whole popsicles, too. Plus, Mummsy says he’s going to get a new bed, pillow, and blankie because he pooed all over them today.

You know what I think, I think he does this stuff just to get special attention and new stuff. I think he took more pieces of cheese when no one was looking the other night just to make himself sick. Isn’t that a syndrome?

Anyway, pansy-boy is in his house clad in two diapers with a bowl of melted popsicle. So far, since about 3 o’clock he hasn’t pooed, thank God. Mummsy and everybody acted like he was going to die or something.

***Sigh***Sigh*** But, I’m glad he’s better. I would miss him if he weren’t here. He’s okay for a pansy-boy.

Sabotaged

The last two weeks of my writing life’s been difficult. If it’s not my relentless work schedule getting in the way, it’s my brain stumbling over words. Or, how do I describe this and that. Or, it’s sweetman sitting at the kitchen table clipping his nails or munching on chips loudly. Or, it’s No-No going off on one her hypochondriac rants. Or, it’s Honey Bear bringing his cat ball (loud bell inside), slamming it into my lap to play. Or, it’s sweetman stepping into another warm welcome from Sir-Poops-A-Lot---listening to his tantrums.

The following describes the other night at my house. Number five has a lot to do with the chaos I go through, I swear.

Shelly sat at her kitchen table around seven o’ clock. She’d cleaned the kitchen, walked her dogs, and made herself a cup of tea. It had been a long one at work and she’d anticipated this moment at her keyboards all day. A story for her next chapter chattered at her all day. She had to write.

Tinkletinkletinkle…Something small and noisy plopped in her lap. She moved her hand to grab it. A golf-sized ball. A cold, wet nose nudged at her hand. Honey Bear. He wanted to play ball.

Shelly rolled the ball into the living room where her hubby watched television.

The little cotton ball on four legs ran back to the kitchen table with his ball wanting his mommy to throw more.

She sighed, and said: “Honey, can you play with Honey Bear?”

Her hubby walked into her writing area. “Sure,” he said, picking up the fluff mound, turning around, he went up the stairs.

Shelly’s finger tips tapped the keyboards at first, warming up, and finally danced across them. Her mind raced back to her story file. “So much for a cup of tea,” Mel said into the air.

Someone stomped down the stairs.“Mom,” No-No said. “I think the doctor messed up my hip.”

Shelly looked up from her keyboards and watched her daughter plop into a chair across from her. She bugged her eyes at her daughter. “I’m working, right now".

“But I’m in pain. I think I’m going to be crippled for life,” her daughter said. Tears filled her eyes.

Shelly sucked in a gob of air and looked down at her computer screen. She can banter while I write, she thought. I can do two things at once. Her fingers pecked away again.A flicker of light floated behind her. Don walked toward her, a silhouette.

A crash sounded from upstairs. “He did it again!” her husband shouted from the stair top. “Where’s that dog? Where’s that dog?”

Shelly looked up from her keyboard and rolled her eyes.

“You don’t believe me!” No-No cried. “You don’t love me. You never did.” Snot dribbled down her daughter’s lips onto her chin.

Shelly didn’t respond and looked back at her keyboards. Her fingers raced across them. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.” His free hand rested on her shoulder and he put the small votive on the counter in front of her.

An army of feet plodded down the stairs, human and animal. Sir Poops-A-Lot raced to his box. Shelly’s husband ran behind. “Bad dog!”

She breathed in and kept punching at the keyboards. She leaned back into his chest, warm and safe. The baby inside her stretched out for the evening’s slumber and she moved Don’s hand to her belly. “Do you feel that?”

“You’re a bad boy!” her husband shouted before he took a seat at the table. He went on and on about dog poop.

No-no went on and on about being crippled.

Shelly tried to get her story out while her family fussed over stuff. The inner and outer chatter didn’t mix. She exploded inside and both her hands slapped the table. “My writing is another job! Seriously!” she shouted.

Yup. Another day in the life of a writer.

Happy blogging, reading and writing!!

Shelly