Our First Dog by Nancy L. Eady

Writing fiction is about synthesizing real events in our lives, running them through our imagination, and coming out with something new but hopefully entertaining for our readers. My past is sprinkled with plenty of such fodder, both humorous and sad. As you may have guessed from my prior posts,  I prefer humor.

This past Friday, June 27, my husband and I celebrated our thirty-eighth anniversary. When we married on Saturday, June 27, 1987, we suffered from one fundamental difference in our belief system – dog ownership. Mark’s family never had indoor dogs; my family did. I figured my chances of getting a dog were slim to none. 

But fate intervened when my husband’s best friend, Gary, who had married a year or two before we did, brought home a cocker spaniel puppy and then, over the telephone, regaled Mark with tons of stories about how easy it was to deal with the puppy, how well it was doing, and how much fun it was. For some strange reason, even when they are separated by hundreds of miles, Mark and Gary’s lives are strangely parallel – they’ll call each other to find out that they had each read the same book or saw the same film independently. They still can finish each other’s sentences, and it is truly scary how their minds still work the same way after forty-six years of friendship. In this case, though, it worked to my advantage. With Gary and his wife in possession of an indoor dog, Mark’s resistance started to wear down. 

For New Year’s Eve, 1987, we went to a swanky party at a hotel in Charlotte, with a live band playing big band music and a sit down dinner. I can still remember, with a smile, how grown-up we felt. A perfectly lovely older couple sat beside us at our table, and somehow the subject of dogs came up. It just so happened that they had available one last cocker spaniel puppy for the bargain basement price of $100, and we were welcome to have her if we wanted. 

And then one of those moments occurred that wouldn’t happen now with 38 years of marriage under our belt. My husband turned to me and said, “It’s now or never. Do you want it?” His thinking: I would realize that New Year’s Day wasn’t the best day to acquire a puppy, especially with a two-hour drive ahead of us and the lack of permission from our apartment complex to own said dog, and say regretfully, “No.” My thinking? “If this is my only chance to get a dog, I’ll take it.” So, I said, "Yes."

January 1, 1988, found us roaming the streets of Charlotte, North Carolina in a maroon1985 Buick Oldsmobile with a three-month old black puppy in my lap, looking for a store that was open with pet supplies. (Shadow turned out to be a mutt; she was maybe a cocker spaniel/labrador retriever mix, but no papers were forthcoming. We call it the best $100 ever stolen from us.) 

Life with a puppy required adjustments. We put her in the bathroom when we weren’t at home to keep her safe. That lasted two days, which was the time it took for her to completely destroy all our bathroom furnishings, including the shower curtain. She tore it in half horizontally on day one, then somehow managed to pull down what remained on day two. The curtain remnant was at least five feet off the ground, and she was maybe six inches tall. Things got easier when the vet introduced us to crate training, which worked so well we have used it with all of our other dogs. 

Since Shadow, there has been a steady succession of dogs through our household, including multiple dogs at one time. Shadow got a sister puppy when she was 7. At six weeks old, J. P. Wooflesnort, “Woof,” was the youngest dog we ever raised. Shadow was brilliant; Woof wasn’t the brightest bulb in the hall, but she had a lovely personality. 

Currently, we have three dogs, or maybe two and a half. Daisy and Penny are ours, but Max is, nominally, our daughter’s dog. When she moves out, he is supposed to go with her. I give it even odds as to whether he actually goes; she is not paying for his food or vet care.  His desirability may diminish once she starts having to pay that herself, in which case he will be ours.

One other thing is certain – since December 31, 1987, my husband has never once turned to me and said, “It’s now or never” about anything. 

Retrospective

This month marks my one year anniversary blogging at Writers Who Kill. If you had told me I would be celebrating this milestone a year and a half ago, I would not have believed you.

In June 2012, after having heard for a number of years about Sisters in Crime and its Guppy Chapter, I dove into the waters, and now, like the salmon, I sense I've reached the stream I was intended to navigate.

As I told this readership last October, reading and writing always have been parts of my life. Internally, I knew I wanted to follow a creative writing career path. How to arrive at that path became the challenge.

When I joined the Guppies, for the first time, I began receiving numerous messages about opportunities to write short stories. Although I had read many short stories, I did not feel comfortable writing them. To be able to craft a short story that conveyed a character's journey and arrived at a satisfying ending, seemed difficult to me--particularly a short mystery. I read the stories of less than 1,000 words in Women's World with amazement. That condensed storytelling took skill.

However, working on a novel that might never be accepted or never get done kept me on the sidelines of the writing community. I told people I was a writer, but I had no tangible proof. Nothing to hand out or point to and say, "See? I'm published." Several members in my local writers' group quit after going years without that achievement. I didn't want to face a similar fate.

Robert Dugoni

So, I decided I had to get into the game. When I heard people conversing about making submissions, I wanted to contribute my own tales. When people asked me what I wrote, I wanted to say "mystery short stories" and tell them the markets where I submitted.

Two wonderful opportunities helped me start in this direction: (1) writing a short story with bestselling author Robert Dugoni, and (2) having one of my own stories accepted for a charitable anthology. Neither has been published yet, but working with Robert was like having a personalized master class, and the group publishing the charitable anthology has released a trailer with my name among the authors.

I kept watching for story calls and making submissions. I joined the Guppy online short story critique group.

Through Story Success, as the Guppy critique group is called, I met Gloria Alden, Kara Cerise, E.B. Davis, and Jim Jackson. I was honored when E.B. asked if I would consider blogging for WWK, and delighted that the group let me share the load with Carla Damron and Sam Morton, two stalwart members of my local writers' group, the Inkplots.

In late December 2012, I read that the Bethlehem Writers Group Roundtable was looking for February stories on the theme "Dead Valentine." The submission had to be made at least a month in advance. I quickly polished a story I had written a few years earlier and sent it in. By the first week in January, I received word it would be the Roundtable February featured story.

Since that time, I've had a second story published in the BWG Roundtable and two in Kings River Life. (Not to mention a Christmas story here on WWK last year.) In addition, I've had two stories accepted for publication in anthologies by Buddhapuss Ink and Dark Oak Press/Kerlak Publishing.

During the summer, my blogging partners have supported and encouraged my work on a short story series. From that experience, I've had the opportunity to meet and now count as good friends some excellent practitioners of mystery short fiction. I've thoroughly enjoyed exploring the avenues open to short story writers. Working in the short story field can help authors gain recognition while maintaining autonomy. I agree with those saying that noted short story writer Alice Munro being awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature this year signals a reemergence of the short story form.

As I start out my second year with WWK, I'm busy working on a short story for this Christmas and thinking about other aspects of short story writing to investigate. This February, with WWK blogger Jim Jackson and wonderful short story writers Kaye George, Toni Kelner, and Earl Staggs, I'll be participating as an author in Murder in the Magic City, a conference in Birmingham, Alabama. I've moderated panels before, but this will be the first time I've appeared as an author.

What an amazing year. I credit blogging with WWK as helping me to chart my writing course. Each person contributing to this blog is talented, thoughtful, caring, and wonderful to communicate with. They are both buddies and inspirations, and I wish them all the best in all their pursuits.

Thank you to my blogging partners for your peer review, support, and encouragement. Thank you to all our readers for taking the time to stop by.

I'm truly grateful.