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Please also visit George, Tillie, and Phoebe at Basset Bones.


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George Meets Beast by Faith Hunter and Mindy Mymudes

6/19/2018

6 Comments

 
George Meets Beast
(Since George doesn’t ‘talk’ to anyone in spoken language, and Beast only talks to Jane, I wondered how they’d handle a meeting in the woods.)
 
I don’t get it. My personal assistant, The Lady With The Hands, told me to meet her out here in the woods.
She’s not here. No one is here.
Not my Girlpup greenwitch-in-training Karly. She needs her magic lessons from me, but first she has to go to regular school.
Not my Boypup Joey. That’s good. He can be a creep.
Not Auntie Heather. She should be here. We were going to look for the Big Bad Monster in the woods.
Where is everyone? If I’m here, they know the woods are safe.
Hold on a second.
I smelltaste sweettangfurflea.
Is that a RABBIT?
“ArOoooOOoo!”

 Rabbitrabbitrabbit! I’m going to get that rabbit if it’s the last thing I do. Might as well get dinner as long as I’m out here. I put my nose to the ground, dragging my beautifully designed basset hound ears. They scoop up the wonderful smelltaste and funnel it right into my face.

Bliss.
It is a rabbit. Soon to be my rabbit.
Huh?
What’s that?
Muskyhotwild.
Stink.
Cat.
I hate cats.

So much for hunting. Maybe it’s the cat stirring up all the trouble in the woods. Is that why the Lady With The Hands sent me out here?
I’ll just get rid of the cat, and then get my rabbit.

RAWR!

If my ears could stand straight up, they would, as it is, they’re trying to prick. I feel my eyes bugging out, and my whiskers are quivering.
It is staring, showing me her teeth.

This isn’t a normal kitty cat. It’s a Horror of a Cat. A freak of a Cat. It has to be three times my length and twice my height. Is this the monster that left the Peep’s bones I found?
Must be.
I take another deep smelltaste. There is something else about this cat, other than it being a Monsterkitty. It also smells like a Peep.
Sweatskinsaltlaundrydetergent. Peep soap?
Did the cat eat another Peep?
I don’t smell Peep blood.

I should get Auntie Heather. I am the best familiar on Earth, the perfect hunting machine, and an excellent teacher. I’m also too brilliant not to know when it’s necessary to get help to battle this creature. Besides, my Peeps would be disappointed if I didn’t let them help.

The Monsterkitty crouches, its tail twitching like a snake in the grass. Its muscles are quivering like mine.
Be scared, Monsterkitty. I have my magic. My drool does amazing things.
The Monsterkitty isn’t looking at me. It springs toward the rabbit I forgot about.
Pounce.
Headshake.
Crunch.
The Monsterkitty turns to face me with the bunny dangling from its mouth.
Oh boy.
I don’t want your rabbit, Monsterkitty.
All yours. Yup.

I back up. I wouldn’t look good as a Monsterkitty decoration. Besides, basset hounds don’t taste good. I’m all scent gathering skin and bones.
I’m not tasty.
I’ll just leave and you can enjoy your snack.
​
And get my backup. I need to tell my Pack about this.
***
Beast stares at dog. Silly dog, thinking about many things. Should be thinking about prey. Should be thinking about rabbit. Dogs think with noses only. Are easy to confuse.

(Hunches down in grass, watching dog.) Strange dog. Strong but with many flaws. Ears too long. Killing teeth could catch and snare him. Strong legs, but too short for chasing down prey. Body like small bull. And drool. (snorts) Much drool.

Silly dog scents rabbit, but still hasn’t scented Beast. Beast could eat dog. Could play with him like large rat in bayou. But Jane Yellowrock says no.

I leap onto rabbit and crunch rabbit head. Blood hot and tasty. Bones hard and crunchy. I snarl at Dog, showing killing teeth. Short dog leaves water, full of scent, tricking down leg to ground. Short dog backs away. Dog is smart. Smart for a dog. (Eats rest of rabbit.)
6 Comments

Go West, Young Basset. Or George Visits Texas.

1/29/2016

3 Comments

 
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                                                                               Foolish Peeps



                                                               By George the most brilliant, stunning, perfectly designed…
                                              (That’s enough George, get to the story. —Your secret-ary)
 
 
 I’m on a Texas ranch in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty sweet when we got here. The Peeps who run the place set up a special shrine for me. That’s me on the left.

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My PackPeeps decided to sightsee and told me to keep busy here.
Other than my secret-ary’s dogs, who are worthless, I have no company. The sleeping is good. There’s a nice big couch with a soft blanket. The dumb spaniels won’t get off. They won’t even make space for me. I will never understand their attraction. They shed, they smell bad, and they listen to commands. The only use I see for them is they are good at counter surfing when the Peeps are gone.

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This is a horse. They tell me that Peeps ride them. I think they are deadly predators and bark and ‘Arooo’ to make them go away. They don’t respect my authority and ignore me. Their poop can be tasty.
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When I bark too much, the Peeps put me in the pen. I’m not a criminal, I’m just trying to save their lives from the big monsters. My PackPeeps are totally clueless.

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I thought they wanted to protect me from the big evil horses. If so, why are they also behind fences?




Look at those big feet!
They could stomp a poor basset flat in no time. My PackPeeps are too trusting! I warn them of the danger, how can I convince them to let me get rid of the ferocious monsters?




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These are dinner. I thought the PackParents hunted food at the grocery store. I’ve never smelltasted cows at the store. I’m not allowed to herd them to my Peeps to cook.

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The PackPeeps took me to Cranky Frank’s for lunch. I didn’t smelltaste cows. They didn’t let me come in, or even lay under a table outside. In fact, I’m not sure they got me anything other than this sticker. It’s very uncomfortable stuck to my side.
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 This is the land they expect me to protect. Do you see a lot of places for me to mark to warn the mythical Texas monsters away? No. I have to trot for days to mark each shrub and clump of grass. Karly isn’t too happy to have to have her leash for so long. It’s not fun for me, either.
 
As the most brilliant perfect basset hound familiar, I tolerate my incarceration and time in this forsaken country, and continue educating my GirlPeep about healing and understanding the land. Even if I’m not sure the land wants to understand us. Now excuse me, I have to find some water, the cow patties didn’t agree with me.
 
George (as dictatored)

3 Comments

Book and Gift Card Giveaway! 

9/18/2015

0 Comments

 
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George is giving away a copy of George Know's and a $10 Amazon gift card to his favorite Twitter tweeters.

Below is the tentative book tour for Tillie and George. Come talk to the real stars, and maybe that writer lady who helps them out from time to time.



September 27 - VBT Café Blog
September 29 - CA Milson's Blog
October 2 - Avenue Books
October 2 - Cherry Mischievous
October 5 - Spotlight at 4Covert2Overt A Place In The Spotlight
October 7 - Voluptuous Book Diva
October 9 - Writers Revolution
October 12 - SolaFide Self-Publishing and Book Blog
October 12 - Bellevue Book Reviews
October 16 - Paranormal Romance and Authors That Rock
October 19 - Jody's Book Reviews
October 21 - Teatime and Books
October 23 - Deal Sharing Aunt
October 23 - Lori's Reading Corner
October 23 - Infinite House Of Books
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How much trouble can a writer get into at a retreat? Part 1, 2014

7/6/2015

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Writers’ Re-treat? Did I Miss the First One? – George

(Or being in the wrong place at the right time. – Mud)

 

I don’t remember the conversation last year about having a writers’ retreat. Truth. When I received the first email concerning a retreat, I sort of went with it. My first book was coming out, I started another, and I was starting a new business in publicity. Oh, and I was dead broke.

 

Usually a deal breaker.

 

But seriously, an opportunity to get away, write, and discuss other peoples’ work? Right? Who in their right mind would turn that down? Shut up, I already know I’m not in my right mind.

 

It got better. We had a volunteer to COOK! YES! Fistpump! I don’t mind doing dishes, but I’m the worst cook that ever used fire. Or a knife, come to think of it. I kept my hat in the ring. Whatever that means.

 

There were decisions to make about where to go. All sounded marvelous. The best was a ‘cabin’ in the mountains. Yeah, cabin. My home would fit on the back deck, next to the swinging bench. Four bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, dining room, and three bathrooms. I’ll return to that.

 

Things happened, money loosened, and I was now a part of the great Writers of the Roaring Gap Retreat. May the Powers That Be help them.

 

Things decided, things reconsidered, things planned, things scrapped. A whole different Con first, (Romantic Times Con. Rocks, but overwhelming, particularly when set in New Orleans). I sort of forgot about ConCarolinas, the retreat, and well, everything else.

 

Which wasn’t a good thing, since I had 200 pages of edits to do by June 1st. Oops.

Quickly got cheese and wine, which are my annual contribution to the Magical Words Party, and packed my bag. Light. Delta is hell on going overweight. Please note this last sentence.

 

I arrived on Thursday, and began my edits, ignoring everyone, including my Canadian roomie. Okay, I always ignore my Canadian roomie, but this time I had a good reason. I plugged in her headphones to my computer, turned up the volume, and started adding commas that were indicated in pink. I went into a coma of commas. I despise commas. Actually, I want to ban the semicolon, but that’s a different story.

 

By Friday afternoon I was ready to hit the panels. The Magical Words panels offer education, fun, and some fighting. I love the MW panels. I learn a lot about wit. And snark. And writing.

Sunday, it was over. The scary part was about to begin, five women in a cabin deep in the mountains. Somewhere. I didn’t even know where. I forgot to mention this part to my husband. I do that once in a while. He recognized the mountains when I sent him pictures, though. He wasn’t quite sure what I was doing there. Me either.

 

See, all these women write. They write for people well above the age of twelve. I write from the POV of a magical basset hound called George, and feel like I’m floundering much of the time. So many rules for writing, and I break them all.

 

Oh. You mean those rules are for ADULTS? Well, okay then. Huh? What’s a gerund? Dangling participles? Isn’t that the name of my next dog, Gerund’s Dangling Participle?

 

No? Our Fearless Leader brought out her teaching hat and explained how sentences can convey emotion, just with their length. Short sentences can indicate action, the sound of a heartbeat speeding up with adrenaline.

 

Um, that didn’t work so well. George seldom ‘speaks’ in long sentences. I did understand the concept, though. I actually noticed it when reading Faith Hunter and Gwen Hunter. It was even in comic books. Okay, so Hulk might not be the best example.

 

Lastly, I didn’t have anything to offer at the critique sessions. I finished my edits, and the last thing I wanted to look at was Tillie’s Tale, and her pink commas.

 

That didn’t stop FL. Nope, I was banished from the cabin, and sent out to write. I found a nice bench on the side of the mountain, sat on it, and it broke.

 

Figures. I sat on the grass and wrote five pages, both sides, of the first chapter of Phebe’s Pause. I had something to discuss. If I could read my handwriting.

 

There is nothing better than being with other writers and going over ideas, flat spots, and things that really resonate. Then, there was me.

 

At least I got to hear a lot of wonderful stories. I also clogged the toilet, (we were saved by FL who wielded the plunger with great aplomb and dignity), gashed open my finger on a chunk of white marble I insisted on bringing back home (remember the Delta weight limit?), and managed to get a large splinter in another finger trying to do my exercises.

 

Too much Valium for a medical condition may have explained a lot of my problems. Perhaps the snoring on the couch? The fact the second half of Phebe sort of floated down the page. Or the fact I wasn’t coherent during a critique session? The clogged toilet?

 

Personally, I think I was invited as inspiration for new characters. I can’t prove it, but I’m going to read everyone’s work very closely in the future.

 

I managed to finish the first chapter of a brand new book, learn quite a bit about how to work with the language, and with the help of everyone, developed out an outline. Yeah, I know, I just had to be different.

 

Oh, the rock and Delta? It made it home. In two large chunks, some pebbles, and a lot of sand. How did the TSA manage to destroy a large piece of marble?

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Nobody Likes Me--Or Authors, Street Teams, and Pimping Books

6/18/2015

2 Comments

 
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Nobody Likes Me

(Or, where are my sales?)

            You’ve plastered your butt in your chair for hours, days, months, years. The story is completed, edited. Edited again. And again. And one more time for good measure. It probably will have a typo here and there, but it’s as clean as you and your editors can make it. It’s accepted to a large/small/micro publisher or maybe you’ve decided to go the route of self-publishing. Look at all the people that have cashed in and your story is far better than anything other that’s out. It’s fresh, new, and unique. Everyone will want to read it.

Finally, it’s your book’s release day. It’s up on Amazon! Look, there’s your name! The book cover! It’s at one billion. That’s good, right? Um, no, the lower the number, the better your book has sold. One billion isn’t great. It does mean someone, at least bought a copy. Thank your mom.

So, what did you do wrong? Did you do your research and try to market it? Did the book have any publicity? Do you have a blog? Are you on Twitter? Facebook? Google+? Other than your mom, does anyone even know you wrote the world’s best book?

If not, how did you expect anyone to buy it?

Not even the larger publishers really push books unless they are likely to hit major bestseller status. The smaller houses aren’t going to do much, either, and the indie publishers little more. They might offer tips on how to market, and if you’re lucky, bookmarks. The self-published are totally on their own.

So now what?

It’s not too late! You know your book is good, so time to research the best options to get your book noticed. The library and the Internet are the best sources, but beware, like any DIY manual, there are a lot of scammers that tell you nothing and are making a lot of money telling you how they did it. Which won’t help you in the slightest.

 There are a lot of choices, so first you need to determine what will be your best for your story. All of them are considered word of mouth advertising (WOM).

A:  Street teams. For new authors, this will be difficult. It’s hard to get people to talk up your book if they haven’t read it yet. If you already have a following, this might be a good option. Street teams are made up of fans who already love your stories. They’ll write reviews, share swag and information about your book, and are excited to know the latest news of their favorite characters. The cost can be minimal. You might want to offer the most active members something that relates to the story. A stake that relates to vampire stories. Book thongs with your book cover as a charm. A copy of your book. A small gift card. All of these keep up interest, particularly between your books. Be very careful you don’t overwhelm your team. I just read of someone that left a team because she was overwhelmed. No overwhelming. Bad author.




B. Blog tours. How awesome are these? Depends on what blogs you choose.. There are websites that will help you find some. Otherwise, look for books that are similar to yours and find out what blogs they’re on. Small blogs are a waste of time. You won’t get much exposure and without a team or a lot of friends to share it, your post will languish Good luck. Many blogs are booked months in advance.  These often have a contest that is connected to your tour, also known as a hop. With Rafflecopter, they can earn entries by liking your fan page, tweeting about your book, liking reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, wherever your book is sold.

C.  Facebook. This is another one of could be bad or good. Page takeovers are generally very good. It gives you a chance to talk to future fans one-on-one. Be sure the genre is correct, if you have a children’s book and are on a page for naughty stories, it might not work out. Of course, a lot of the readers are moms, so it might be great. Find out who has taken over the page in the past. You should have your own page, as well. You can drum up fans from the blogs you have posts on.

D) Tweet. Again, hard to do without already having a fan base, but there are teams out there that will #retweet  for you. If you’re with an Indie, you can

friend Indie Author Retweet Group: Simply follow to join, then add ‪#IARTG in any tweet you want us to re-tweet. :) ‪#RT ‪#indie ‪#author ‪#retweet ‪#group ‪@retweet_groups. These guys will also tweet for you. They didn’t cost anything at the time I put in this ad: http://readersgazette.com/world/moreinfo/B00H2YO68O/

            E) Hire a promo team. There are a lot of them, both excellent and horrible. Once more, get on your search engine and look for book promotion. You’ll run into blogs that describe the good and the bad ones. Research them. Look at the blogs they use and make sure they are appropriate, just as you would if you were looking for blogs for yourself. These teams usually do it all. They’ll schedule blog tours, cover releases, street teams (there are a few that share with multiple authors in the same genre or with the same publisher, they’ll find them for you). Most also come up with swag ideas. Key chains, more permanent book marks, things that you, as an author, shouldn’t waste your writing time with. For someone new at the game, this is your best bet. No fuss, and while different teams charge different amounts, you won’t have to reinvent the wheel or get caught up doing the wrong thing.

            This isn’t an ad, but my partner, Audrey Salick and I run Let’s Talk! Promotions. http://www.ltpromos.com Audrey owns Drey’s Library, a large blog, and handles arranging the tours. I do the crazy stuff, like set up teams. It cuts into my writing time, but because of my books I’ve learned valuable and not so valuable information.

So, butt out of chair, and start your promo! Let everyone know your book is unique and better than Death by Chocolate Cake. Or, in my character George, the egocentric basset hound familiar, case, tuna fudge.

2 Comments

Snack Time!

6/17/2015

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“Arooo!”

Where is everybody?

“Gurgle.”

My tummy alarm is going off and no one with thumbs is around to give me any treats. My Peeps can be so inconsiderate that way.

Well, my Packmates are messy creatures. I’m sure I can smelltaste out something for a snack. I put my nose to the floor and snork.

Nothing.

I trot over to my Boypup’s small den. At eight seasons old, he’s very messy. With Tillie in her crate there might be some crumbs around. I push open the door. Tillie boings around in her crate, spinning, happy to see me.  She’s a cute basset puppygirl and I’m glad she’s ours.

Even if she isn’t very bright.

Not everyone can be a brilliant basset hound familiar, after all.

I snork around on the floor, scooping up scent with my fine ears, funneling it to my mouth and nose. There are many smelltastes. I savor old sweat socks, underwear, and spoons. I push the spoons around with my nose.

Licked clean.

Tillie bays pathetically. Hm. If I let her out, she might go potty in the house. That’s not a good thing. If I don’t, she’ll be sad. Can’t have that. She steps out, shakes her coat into place, and licks my nose. Then she rolls over on her back.

And pees a little.

Sigh.

Joey will never notice.

There are no nummies in here. Tillie on my heels, I check the kitchen. I smelltaste the lovely essence of leftovers in the trash I can’t get to. The kitchen is the room least likely to have goodies on the floor, unless there are Peeps around. I smelltaste around the table. Check under the fridge. Then under the stove.

My tail whips straight up. Drool pours from my mouth. There is a treat under the stove. I cock my head and slide my snout as far under as I can. Not far enough. I pull out, sneeze, and try again. It’s too far back. Karly’s magic homework probably went wrong.

Otherwise I woulda known it was there.

I poke my paw in the opening. It doesn’t reach far enough. My paw isn’t meant for grabbing things. It’s a perfectly designed digging tool. I snuffle. Maybe I can make it move.

Nope.

“Arooo!” How am I going to reach it?

Tillie is making a racket with a wooden spoon she stole from somewhere. She’s batting at it, sliding it across the floor, banging it against the walls. It bounces off the kitchen island and slips almost under the stove.

She pounces on it. The spoon slides out, a piece of biscuit caught on the edge. Tillie jumps on the treat, crunching on the cookie with joy. Her tail is spinning so fast she’s going to puppycopter out of the room.

It’s good she got it. She’s still little, and needs a lot of food to grow big and strong.

I bet there’s treats under the couch cushions.

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Tillie the Puppy Girl is On Sale!

6/17/2015

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Tillie's Tale, book 2 of the Magical Drool series, is on sale for $1.99 through the 18th! 



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George In The Kitchen

6/15/2015

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Aroo!

It’s breakfast! The best meal of the day.
The smelltaste of saltygreasesmoke teases my nose and mouth. I stealthily move closer to the fire Packmom is standing next to. She spins around and holds her nose, swiping her face with a thingy Peeps use when they eat. Stupid thingy.

“George, what did you get into? You smell like a rotten fish!”

Yeah. That’s the best way to confuse the evil squirrels. They never know who ate them

I plop down at her feet, giving her my best basset eyes. Peeps can’t resist the wrinkles. They’re jealous they don’t have anything to trap smellscents. She holds her nose, and reaches under a food saving place and grabs a sharpsourstrong liquid I can smelltaste though the container. I’m trying to get away, but she grabs my collar. My claws scrape the floor as I slide toward her and she spills the horrible smelltasting stuff on my soft, lovely black, tan, and white coat. I just groomed myself and now I reek. 

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An Interview with George

6/11/2015

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1) Describe your writing space.

The LadyPeep with the thumbs like working on the kitchen table, or in her den. I prefer the kitchen. She’s always eating and dropping crumbs.


2) What do you like to do when you aren't writing?

Marking poles and trees, eating, sleeping. The LadyPeep likes gardening and playing with the stupid springers. Hah. Stupid dogs, they’ll do anything for a treat. Me, give me a treat, but if what a Peep wants me to do is foolish, they can’t make me do it.

3) Do you see yourself in any of the characters in this book?

The book is written about my life. The LadyPeep says that each of the scenes is about a dog she used to have who found human bones. No way, right? No springer would be smart enough to find bones.

4) How would you describe George Knows in 3 sentences or less?

Brilliant. Stunning. Perfect.
Oh, you mean my book. Um. An egotistical magical basset hound named George believes it's his duty to train and protect his 12-year-old Girlpup, a greenwitch named Karly. He and his Girlpup, must solve a murder as well as save their park from being developed. George is the perfectly designed familiar for the job.

5) What is your favorite and least favorite parts of the writing process?

I hate it when the LadyPeep argues with me about how a scene should go. My favorite part is when she gets up for snacks. She also doesn’t like to do something called Ed it. I’m not sure who Ed is.

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Tillie's Tour and More Chances to Win!

4/22/2015

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Tillie's Tour continues through May 15th, with chances to win a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card for a lucky reader.


April 27: Long and Short Reviews YA
April 28: Books and Other Spells
April 29: Cafinated Reads
April 30: Lisa Haselton's Reviews and Interviews
May 1: Independent Authors
May 4: Books in the Hall 
May 5: Brenda Maxfield's Blog
May 6: Journey of a Bookseller - review only
May 6: View from the Birdhouse
May 7: Andi's Middle Grade and Chapter Books
May 8: Unabridged Andra's
May 11: Rogues Angels
May 12: Books Direct
May 13: CBY Book Club
May 14: Our Families Adventure - review only
May 15: Yeah Books!
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Tillie Blog Tour and Prizes!

3/20/2015

6 Comments

 
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Tillie is taking over and off on her own tour. Don't miss her debut party March 24th at 6:00 pm MST. Come ask her about ghosties, peeps, and what kind of big brother George really is.
6 Comments

First Look at Tillie!

3/11/2015

1 Comment

 
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Tillie is available for pre-order--and on sale--at Amazon and at MuseItUp!
1 Comment

George vents about The New Kid

3/5/2015

1 Comment

 
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I’m cursed. My new pack mate, puppygirl Tillie, is a menace. I thought it would be great to have a pup to teach all the things a young one needs to know. She would also add a new voice (like mine) to our little pack.

It didn’t turn out that way. Instead, she chews on my ears, eats my food, and takes belly rubbies that were supposed to be for me. Tillie is a menace.

When the Creep takes her out, I have to go out, too, even if it’s my naptime. Not that it matters. The last time she napped in my bed, she peed in it. PEED in MY BED. That puppygirl has no manners.

If anyone is going to pee in my bed, it’s going to be ME.

She’s exasperating. She sleeps with her head across my back. Tillie is a four-month-old demon wearing a basset hound skin. She has no magic.

Well. Maybe a little magic. When she looks at me with those deep, dark eyes, and bats her eyelashes, and play bows, she is adorable. Of course I enjoy a good romp, and when we’re done, she is a snuggly pal. Karly isn’t always around when I want to snuggle. She also drops kibble and gets food in her ears. I’m there to make sure she’s tidy.

Okay. Maybe the puppygirl isn’t too bad. After all, she does have to raise Joey, the creep.

1 Comment

Poor George. New Year's Resolutions Are Tough 

1/27/2015

0 Comments

 
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The formally Good Witch of the South has turned into the Wicked Witch of the East. She smiles at me as she places the clipper on my claw. With a click, a piece of my nail goes flying.

Hey! That piece is important!

“Whimper. Whine. WoOOoooe!” is me.

My Girlpup doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation. “You big baby. That didn’t hurt.” The door in her mind is closed, she’s shutting me out—she doesn’t have a clue.
          I look up at Auntie Heather and plead for her to stop.
          Instead, she quickly cuts the rest on that paw, claw bits flying around like June bugs. June bugs aren’t tasty treats. She finishes that paw and doesn’t even give me break before she does another one.                                                                                                                                                And another one. And another one. I really hope that’s the last one. She puts down the clippers. Yup, that was.

Fine, hope you’re happy. Since I was an excellent dog, you may give me a treat.

She tosses some popcorn at me. It’s dry, no salt or butter. What the…sigh…The Diet.

Bleah.

I eat them anyway. Who knows if I’ll ever be fed again?

0 Comments

George and the New Kid-A.K.A. Tillie the Terrible

12/30/2014

1 Comment

 
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Sometimes I wonder about why Auntie Heather decided it was a good idea to add a puppy to our Pack. It’s not like we needed another basset hound.

Yes, Tillie is adorable, but all puppies are. It keeps us from killing them. She eats my food, chews up books, hides things, and is a complete pain. When I’m just at the point of correcting her with a good snap, she bats those basset baby browns and I melt.

She might not have magic, but she is very good at making up. Puppy kisses. Puppy snuggles.

Not fair. She has us wrapped around her little paws. Which aren’t that little. If she grows into them she’s going to be a bloodhound. Poor thing.

Tillie still messes in the house. I, of course, never did that, but it means we spend a lot of time outside doing walkies while Joey The Creep waits for her to poop and pee. It does give me more time to properly mark my territory.

She also doesn’t know what makes a good friend. The silly puppygirl has attracted a ghostygirl. Now how are we supposed to get rid of it?

Guess I’m back to work.
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    Mindy Mymudes

    Middle grade author and head of the Muddy Paws pack. Find me on Goodreads and at my Amazon Author Page.

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