My name is Andrew Joyce and I write books for a living. Meg has been kind enough to allow me a little space on her blog to promote my new book RESOLUTION: Huck Finn’s Greatest Adventure. I think it’s a good book, but what do I know? Anyway, I’m kinda shy about tooting my own horn. So I think I’ll turn things over to my dog Danny. He always has an attitude and usually does not speak highly of me. But please understand that we co-exist as the old Soviet Union and the United States once co-existed. We tolerate each other. So without further ado, here’s Danny.
|Danny the Dog|
Hello, I am Danny the Dog, hero to all canines of the world and a few females of the human persuasion. I live with my human, Andrew, on our boat in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He took me away from my busy life to help him out here. For a person that works with words for a living, he has very little to say in real life. He wants me to tout his book for him, but I don’t think I will. Instead, I think I’ll tell you about our latest adventure. We’re always having adventures. And I like to write about them.
By the way, Andrew is the villain of this piece.
It all started on a warm and sunny autumn day. I wanted to go and visit my friend Beth who lives a few boats over. She is always so nice. Always puts out a bowl of water and always finds something in the fridge for me. The last time it was turkey. The time before that it was shrimp salad. The shrimp were good, I just spit out the lettuce and the other healthy stuff. But I digress; on with my tale of horror.
I was sitting on the dock, giving reign over my domain. I had delivered my one-bark command to Andrew to come up out of the boat and take me to Beth’s. I would have gone myself, but Andrew keeps me tethered with a leash, a rope in actuality. He is so cruel!
Well, Andrew came up alright, but I didn’t like the fact that he had dish soap in his hand. I think the brand name was Joy, but there was no joy in my heart when I saw it, for it could only portend one thing. BATH TIME!!!
I know that some dogs like water and that’s up to them. However, I am a bit more sophisticated. If the Great Being wanted us dogs to fool around with water, he would have given us gills to breathe through. And seeing as how He did not, I’ll keep my paws dry if you don’t mind. I mean, if you humans had not shown up in the evolutionary scheme of things, how many baths do you think us dogs would have given ourselves over the course of a lifetime? Give up? Then I’ll tell you . . . zero, nada, none. We surely would have rolled on the carcass of a dead animal (so much fun), but no baths. Thankfully, Andrew is a minimalist. He thinks as I do about baths, both for himself and me. But every once in a while, he bathes and then that means I have to also.
In a situation like I found myself in that day, it is important to show no fear; humans can sense it, so I stared at him with a look that said, “One more step with that soap, buddy, and I might just chomp down on your leg!” It did no good, onward he came. Onward came the soap!
Andrew took my harness off and said the biggest cliché in the world, “This is going to hurt me a lot more than you.” It took all my will power not to bite him right then and there. Not trusting me, he kept a hold of my fur with one hand as he turned on the hose with the other. Then he wet me! Drenched me in agua! I swear, if I didn’t depend on him for food, I would have bit him. It’s a good thing for him I did not remember about Beth. She will always feed me. And Andrew might be missing a hand right about now.
So the indignity was complete. Soap was administered to my being. I’ll forgo telling of the other ignominies I suffered. Let the record show that I am now a clean dog, albeit against my will.
As soon as I finish typing this, I have to hurry over to Beth’s. I’ve been invited for dinner and maybe a sleep-over. Andrew wasn’t invited . . . he didn’t take a bath today.
That’s about it from Dannyland for now.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot—go out and buy Andrew’s new book and make the old guy happy.This is Andrew again. On behalf of Danny and myself, I would like to thank Meg for having us over. It’s been a real pleasure.
Blurb for Resolution:
It is 1896 in the Yukon Territory, Canada. The largest gold strike in the annals of human history has just been made; however, word of the discovery will not reach the outside world for another year.
By happenstance, a fifty-nine-year-old Huck Finn and his lady friend, Molly Lee, are on hand, but they are not interested in gold. They have come to that neck of the woods seeking adventure.
Someone should have warned them, “Be careful what you wish for.”
When disaster strikes, they volunteer to save the day by making an arduous six hundred mile journey by dog sled in the depths of a Yukon winter. They race against time, nature, and man. With the temperature hovering around seventy degrees below zero, they must fight every day if they are to live to see the next.
On the frozen trail, they are put upon by murderers, hungry wolves, and hostile Indians, but those adversaries have nothing over the weather. At seventy below, your spit freezes a foot from your face. Your cheeks burn—your skin turns purple and black as it dies from the cold. You are in constant danger of losing fingers and toes to frostbite.
It is into this world that Huck and Molly race.They cannot stop. They cannot turn back. They can only go on. Lives hang in the balance—including theirs.
Andrew Joyce left high school at seventeen to hitchhike throughout the US, Canada, and Mexico. He wouldn’t return from his journey until decades later when he decided to become a writer. Joyce has written four books, including a two-volume collection of one hundred and forty short stories comprised of his hitching adventures called BEDTIME STORIES FOR GROWN-UPS (as yet unpublished), and his latest novel, RESOLUTION. He now lives aboard a boat in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, with his dog, Danny, where he is busy working on his next book, YELLOW HAIR.
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