It was my son’s seventh birthday. We asked what he wanted. He told us. And so…
…we got a puppy.
A boy and his dog. Growing up together. How sweet. How classic. Our son is adopted. He comes from a hard place. He has struggled to attach, a long process of pendulum swings from safety to fear and back again. What a perfect gift for this boy we love so much: a puppy all his own to love too.
Trauma kids arrive with lacks, for instance eye contact, an understanding of cause and effect, and empathy. Trauma kids test and reject you. At the same time they cling with a choke hold. Some days our son follows my wife around, talking nonstop. One day she said, “Sweetheart, I really, really need to take a break.” He said, “Can I come with you?”
We’ve made huge progress, we’re proud of that, but it’s a lifelong journey. How excellent for this stage, we thought, to have a puppy. The puppy will make eye contact with those big, sad puppy eyes. Training the puppy will demonstrate cause and effect. Caring for the puppy will build empathy. All good, good, good.
Our puppy is a rescue. (In our oppressively hip neighborhood you will be lashed if you own a purebred.) She’s sleek and black and wickedly smart. She eats like a horse, has doubled in size, and we love her to pieces.
The trouble began with a corner of our baseboard molding. It looked like a beaver had attacked it. Of course it was Pup. Chewing. Everything. You dog owners can stop laughing now. It’s not funny. Our place is trashed. Carpets are rolled up and put away. When we set the table for dinner the dishes are pushed to the center. Pup also follows us everywhere. She sits outside the bathroom door and barks. She is needy, a bottomless bucket
There is so much we didn’t know or hadn’t considered. We were willfully blind.
A rescue? That means abandoned. She is an adopted kid. Eye contact isn’t a problem but training is difficult. Pup apparently has never heard of cause and effect. She is no respecter of kitchen counter tops or bedtime. Her empathy is low. Worse, we discovered that she is a mix of Labrador and Great Dane. Great Dane? Are you kidding me? She will grow up to be a giant.
Just like our son. Exactly like our kid. Little did we know that we were not getting a companion for our boy but a twin. We’re living in Groundhog Day, coping with the trauma of abandonment over and over again.
Of course. Right. Naturally. God is testing us and will keep testing us, I suppose, until we get it right. Just our luck. Our puppy’s name is Lucy. She’s a lesson. She’s symbolic, or at least she is for us. She’s big meaning wrapped up in a small (for now) package. We love her, though. We are committed, even more so because she needs us so much. The thing is we need her too. She completes us in ways we didn’t know we lacked.
Now, let’s get to your fiction.
Excellent novelists dig big meaning out of small events. Conversely, they can illuminate overlooked implications of large plot turns. They can deliver dry facts and make them matter. They can tie together a narrative that spans decades, or even a lifetime, and make it feel like a single tight story. They can make doing the dishes poetic.
Those feats of fiction skill are all accomplished with the same basic technique. It’s the same method that I described last month in my discussion of structural “pin connections” in airport architecture. In fiction the pin connections that fasten together the inner and outer journey are emotions and meaning. When you dig those out and use them, anything put on the page can become charged with electricity. Everything ties together and helps tell the story.
Take dry facts. Almost every story requires that you explain some things to your readers. Scientific, historical, occupational or local knowledge is needed for the story to make sense. This stuff can sit on the page like a lump. When it does it’s called “info-dump”. Or it can feel lively, engaging and important. It’s all in how you do it, and how you do it is to make that information mean something to a point of view character.
Everything has meaning. Tiny events reflect a larger truth. Large plot happenings are packed with many minor implications. Doing the dishes can define your existence. You can tie together anything at all, including different and distant phases of life, by asking (and answering) the same questions at each stage: What do I want? Have I found it yet? How does it seem different to me now? What unifies a life is not what happens in its long span but the questions that underlie long experience. Life changes but the quest is always the same.
Let’s turn this into a technique. For simplicity, let’s choose any small thing that happens somewhere in the middle of your manuscript. When you have it in mind, write down your answers to the following questions:
This small event is symbolic, but symbolic of what? Why is its timing perfect? What does your POV character notice about it that no one else does? What meaning might anyone see if they bothered to look? Is it good or bad to be reading meaning into this event? To feel this feeling and gain this understanding feels like what? (Create an analogy.) There is a big revelation here—what is it? There is a small satisfaction here—what is it? There is a troubling truth—summarize it. How is your POV character changed in this moment, even in a small way?
When you’ve made your notes, wrap it all up in a paragraph or a passage that conveys the meaning of this moment. Attach emotions and add insight to this small event. Don’t be afraid of slowing the pace. When you deepen the meaning of things no one will complain.
To sum up, the puppy has a purpose and it’s not just to chase bouncy balls. It’s to show us what really matters, why we truly care, and to illuminate the meaning of everything.
What secret meaning did you discover? What’s the meaning hidden in the scene you’re working on today? Share!
About Donald Maass
Donald Maass (he/him) is president of the Donald Maass Literary Agency. He has written several highly acclaimed craft books for novelists including The Breakout Novelist, The Fire in Fiction, Writing the Breakout Novel and The Career Novelist.
Oh I wanted to hear more about the puppy! Such a brilliant piece of writing also. It pulled me right in and I got a surprise when you talked about fiction. I had forgotten reading a few puppy paragraphs, what we are here for. Thank you and do let us know how the puppy story unfolds. Yes, as you can probably tell, I’m a dog lover as well as an author and therapist, and for the last little while, started Doggy Holiday Care.
A wonderful way to have enjoy a dog at home and then not. Also love your summing up.
Like they say in the theater, never go on stage with puppies or kids. They always steal the show. (BTW, the picture accompanying this post is of Lucy, the pup in question.)
Corollary to the above rule re: puppies and children on stage: If you feel your character is veering toward being unlikable or unsympathetic, give him a kind or a dog. (A bit of wisdom I flogged in yesterday’s post.)
That’s supposed to be a kid or a dog. Boy, I wish it was easier to revise comments here. Sigh…
Hey Don – I’ll start with what all of us dog folk instantly felt in seeing Lucy’s picture, and say: aww, she’s adorable! Congrats to you and your family.
Our black lab pup Gidget is seven months – a lanky, strong adolescent. I must say, after reading your woes, I feel fortunate that our biggest issues seem smaller (sorry, but at least I can tell you that things change fast in the first few years – one problem will be traded for another in a flash). Our two biggies now are pulling on the leash and overly exuberant greetings (jumping up, lunging at the face to kiss, etc.). I can see that the two are related. She’s just got an abundant love of life! And much of the time it is joy-inducing to behold.
When she’s pulling these old carpenter shoulders from the sockets, I’m prone to lose my patience. And sometimes my temper. We’re trying to stop the self-reinforcing behavior of pulling forward by changing directions or stopping (You want to go forward? Won’t happen like this). It seemed to be working, but not so much anymore. Willful teenage-type attitude seemed to be taking over. I stopped our walk on the way to the beach the other day. She was pulling like we were in the Ididerod on my aching joints. I was angry. I put her into a sit, bent and bellowed like a drill sergeant in her face, “Stop! Pulling! Or we’ll go back to the house!” We’ve never struck her or any dog, and we don’t believe in aversives for training. Gidge looked up, frightened, bewildered, and offered a contrite, quick lick of my chin. As if to say, “I’m just excited, and I want to go play on the beach.) I realized my threat was empty. I wanted to go to the beach, too. And she certainly needed the release the romp was sure to provide. A good lab is a tired one, right?
We managed to get there, and as I watched the unbridled joy of a lab water-fetching, I felt ashamed. I may have blushed. She’s just a pup. I know the source of the behavior. Her exuberance is part of what I love about her. I had to look at myself. I know I resent having to go through the puppy thing again. The grief over my “perfect girl” is still fresh (Gidget’s predessor, Belle, passed away in Feb.). I keep wishing for us to just “get through” this puppy thing. Pups are time and energy consuming. They can’t be trusted. I’ve got work to do. She’s a distraction when Belle seemed like a writing enhancement.
But Belle was no angel. And if my perfect girl taught me anything, it was to be present – to show up each day, to enjoy each moment of the journey. Including a pup’s delight. My big external distraction reminds me to look inward. If I let her. It’s on me. I know my characters can do the same. If I let them. And looking inward in a deeper way can only enhance my stories – those I share and those that are the weave of my life. Dogs can be amazing that way. If you let them.
Lots to mull here and a fun exercise. I’ll be coming back to this one when I get back from Salem. Thanks, and enjoy Lucy’s joy!
You make me want to walk on a beach or lake shore with Lucy. Oh, when she sees the water–!
You also make me want to write. To dig out the meaning of my breakfast, even. Looking forward to this day in Salem, see you very soon.
Vaughn – you must be enjoying the UnCon! I still owe you a coke. I haven’t forgotten. (Maybe at UnCon #2?)
I am in the same place as you right now, dog wise. We had to say goodbye to my good friend, our wolf-X Frenchy, last February. We didn’t want a puppy – too much trouble – but we have a ranch and need to deter the moose, deer, bear and cougars from coming around and scaring the horses (and me!), so we got a female Bouvier-X almost a year old. Ha! A few weeks later, she presented us with six puppies. We’d love to know who the father is, but she ain’t talkin’. It didn’t take long for us to realize he must have been a Very Big Dog, maybe a Leonberger by the looks of the pup we kept.
I walk them both on a leash because “mom” (now spayed!) has a tendency to go walkabout if she’s not in their big play yard. She disappeared for 3 days with the pup when he was only 4 months old, and we don’t want to risk them getting shot by a local rancher if they decide it’s fun to chase cattle. The pup is 6 months old, already as big as mom, and together they outweigh me, so you can imagine how important it is for me to teach them not to pull!
To return to the topic of writing – first heard about Don’s pup at the SIWC master class he gave on the Emotional Craft of Fiction. It was an excellent class, and one of the important take-aways for me was to make a change in a character or his feelings in each and every scene, something I’ll pay close attention to as I revise my current WIP.
Good luck with the pup!
Ruth
Bless you for giving Lucy–and, of course, your son!–a home and family to love.
And bless you for providing such a perfect example of drawing meaning from the events we write about. I’m always so glad to see the first Wednesday of the month roll around!
There ought to be something good about Wednesdays, right? Chatting here with everyone on WU definitely makes this first hump day of the month worthwhile.
Don,
My uncle has three rescue dogs. It started with one who had come from a life of such trauma she thought you were attacking the moment you showed your hands. Whenever I’d visit my uncle I had to keep my hands in my pockets. It took about ten years, but now living in a home where she is loved and safe has finally sunk in and she’s laid back (except when someone is walking past the front window with their dog; then the shouting match is on).
I took your exercise, and here is what I came up with:
Some context first. The current scene I’m working involves a sparring match. The character in question is a soldier and brother to my main protagonist (as readers get to know him more they might consider him a protagonist too). He doesn’t want to be a soldier, but he joined the army because it seemed the right thing to do to after his father was killed in a peasant uprising (his father was a soldier and died fighting). In this scene, not only is he in his military training, preparing for imminent war, he’s troubled by his adopted sister’s recent revelation that she was a child assassin for one of the city’s terrorist groups, and this whole day, from sunup til sundown, he’s been waiting for his granduncle’s visit, since he hopes the man will be able to help his sister while he’s away fighting.
So here he is. The sun has set, and he’s lost five fights already. It’s raining, he’s hung up over why his uncle hasn’t visited yet, and guess who he’s fighting next? The best soldier in his battalion. For some reason he can’t explain, though, he has a sudden moment of clarity and not only wins, but gains a win over a soldier who almost never loses a sparring match.
This small event is symbolic, but symbolic of what?
His inner will, ability to rise above oppression, to think clearly even when the odds are against him.
Why is its timing perfect?
He is losing everything in his personal world. Everything seems to be against him. Yet this is a reminder that with his own will he can gain back control. He doesn’t have to be a follower.
What does your POV character notice about it that no one else does?
He notices that when he puts his mind to it, he can make a difference. He’s not as helpless and trapped in his circumstances as he’s assumed.
What meaning might anyone see if they bothered to look?
This guy is not so hopeless as he lets on.
Is it good or bad to be reading meaning into this event?
It’s good. This is a moment where his journey to take charge of his destiny is first shown to the reader. It is the beginning of a longer journey, one which will eventually see him turn his back on the army and join the “enemy” – when he sees the truth that in fact the ruling power in his home city is corrupt and must decide for himself whose side is the correct side to be on.
To feel this feeling and gain this understanding feels like what? (Create an analogy.)
It is like the sun coming out from behind thick, black clouds, briefly.
There is a big revelation here—what is it?
He’s not so hopeless after all.
There is a small satisfaction here—what is it?
“I can fight!”
There is a troubling truth—summarize it.
Despite his victory, his assumption that he knows how to fight is based on generalization. He’s never seen a battle field. He assumes his attack would have skewed his opponent, and when he offered his opponent his hand after defeating him and his commander reprimanded him, he brushed this off – in the battle field the find blow would have pierced his enemy through and he wouldn’t have shown mercy. No, of course he wouldn’t have…
How is your POV character changed in this moment, even in a small way?
He thinks he will succeed in this war. This is important in the small picture, as well as the big. In the small picture, it gives him some hope. In the big, this assumption adds to a cascading effect of overconfidence which will ultimately lead to the death of an elite mercenary soldier who he secretly falls in love with.
…
Now to put that into my writing. I have several revision notes for when I sit down again this weekend to forge ahead – this exercise is now added to that. Thank you for sharing your wisdom, Don. And, of course I will look forward to any input you have to help me further.
Don, your posts never fail to inspire and educate about writing in a deeper sense. I like the questions you present at the end of your post and can use them for my WIP. I have two of your writing books, and they are insightful and often jump-start me in my fiction. May I ask–on a related subject–is it true that you have written 17 novels? I’ve heard comments that this is just gossip and that you are a solely a writing/industry professional, not a fiction author. Can you set the record straight? If you did write novels, where might we find them? I would so love to read your fiction. Thanks!
Paula-
As a start-up agent back in the Eighties I wrote fiction to support myself, fourteen novels in all: romance and YA, including a few about a famous teenage girl detective.
Please do not track down that stuff. I’m not ashamed of it, or anything, but I wouldn’t hold it up as examples of how to write great fiction, though it did teach me a lot. My understand of the art has evolved quite a bit.
Overall, I’ve written six books I(so far) on fiction careers and craft. Those I do hope you’ll browse!
Paula, Donald Maass has ghost written fiction novels. I don’t know how many he has written. I think he wrote a couple of girl detective books years ago when his agency was just getting started.
Don–
I love the bit about your neighborhood’s disdain for purebred dogs. Our neighborhood is full of arrivistes and wannabes who need brand-name clothes and dogs (while you’re at it, make sure they’re golden retrievers, the more blond the better).
Lucy–I feel I know her in all her complexity and neediness. Chelsea, our rescue, a border-collie mix was broken-spirited when we got her. She’d been given up twice, and didn’t bark for three months. The day she did, my wife and I celebrated big time. In fact, I published a novel/fable for adults about dogs and their retiree owners, living on a golf course. Like children, the elderly are especially rewarded by having a dog to love. The book’s called Just Bill.
About how “doing the dishes can define existence”: that’s a good example. Doing dishes can be drudgery, or it can be a great comfort for arthritic hands early in the morning.
At the end of your post you call on writers to choose some small event from a story they’ve written, and ask ten questions about it. This exercise can certainly sensitize a writer to how meaning is everywhere, not just in Big Moments. But the writer is still left to make the critical choices about where and when to zoom in, slow down, etc. The exercise is also likely to make the writer a better reader. When reading a good book that keeps snatching meaning from the trivia laundry hamper, the writer now has a clearer understanding of why she responds the way she does. That reading, in turn, now takes on heightened value for the writer.
Geez, Barry. Yesterday you flogged crime fiction, today you’re trashing those who own pure breeds.
I write crime fiction. I own a Wheaton terrier.
I’m obliged to assume this places me squarely in your doghouse.
David–
Did I flog crime fiction yesterday? Uh oh, early (or not-so-early) signs of dementia: I write crime fiction. As for trashing any kind of dog whatever, I’m a dog nut. I often fail to notice the person on the other end of the leash. Wheatons are a great favorite of mine, also Airedales, Kerry Blues and Westies. But I do have “issues” with the latest eugenics experiments to produce hybrids that don’t shed, and come pre-trained to do laundry. As for you being in the doghouse, around here, that would be a four-bedroom colonial with cushy pooch beds in every room. Feel free to drop in for a nap, but be sure to bring your own tennis ball.
Funny how a photograph of a dog can bring out the dog lovers in all of us…er, you. I wrote a heroine once who was pretty much perfect–until it turned out she hated dogs. Many folks thought that was her biggest flaw–and some of my crit partners wanted me to change it! Funny…my heroine got that from me.
Don, you might enjoy Surviving Henry–a book about a hilarious troubled dog and her crazy family. (Trust me, this dog will have you looking for a halo on Lucy.)
I love the idea of making every little thing matter in my books. I already have a scene I’m going to work on with this advice. Thanks!
Ah, a boy and his dog! I think the two shall get on very well and it is the best gift. We got ours when my daughter was seven and it was wild for the first couple of years. You have to train the kid too!
Frankly the big events can leave me dazed. Clarity seems to come in the small moments. It can mean everything, like my MC shoving her bag underneath her seat on an airplane because she’s too proud to ask for help putting it overhead. She’s tall enough, but her burn scars prevent her from lifting her arms over her head.
I am sorely missing the UnCon, but thankful you and your storymate masters are coming to Charleston. I’m looking forward to studying with you all:)
Don, even without applying it to writing, I couldn’t agree more with this:
“…the puppy has a purpose and it’s not just to chase bouncy balls. It’s to show us what really matters, why we truly care, and to illuminate the meaning of everything.”
That’s probably why I like dogs better than I like most people.
I’m an adoptive parent and a dog owner. My youngest’s first word was gou, dog in Chinese. Her bonds with our dogs–first a schnauzer named Lilly and now, that dog’s distant cousin, Jasmine–have never wavered.
The baby is 13 now, but she still manages to cut straight to quick when identifying my flawed priorities. Dogs and children keep us in the real world–definitely a plus for this writer.
Oh, Don:
A Great Dane mix? Dude, that’s not a puppy. That’s a pony.
(And yes, as a dog owner, I laughed. And am still chuckling a wee bit.)
I agree with Keith’s comment wholeheartedly, and might add this quote:
“Dog – a kind of additional or subsidiary Deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world’s worship.” –Ambrose Bierce
And I can’t find the actual quote, but I think it was H.L. Mencken or Ambrose Bierce again or some other cranky American soul who said something to the effect of: The greater my acquaintance with men, the more profoundly I prefer the company of dogs.
Puppyhood’s a rough patch, but you do get through it and all the reasons you’ve given for getting her (and she really is a beauty) are valid. The payoff is big. For everybody.
I found on my final rewrite of the novel that comes out next year (I’m reading through the copy edits now … pray for me) that there were mirrored scenes I hadn’t realized I’d written. This kinda bothered me at first, as though I was repainting the same wall over and over, but once I recognized these repetitions I realized they served a genuine dramatic purpose. And as I revised I focused on making better use of the emotional and psychological meaning linking both scenes. I made sure the second scene presented a definite shift that revealed that this time the result would be different given everything that had happened since the first iteration of these particular circumstances. The scene was the same, but different, as though the character was in the grip of some repetition compulsion (one of the themes of the book), doomed to keep repeating the same mistake until finally he/she could see beyond the trap, reach out to another character, learn to trust, and break the cycle (trust and truth being another major theme of the book).
Great post, as always, and I really wish I could join you in Salem.
And btw: Leading off with a picture of a puppy. I mean, really. Don’t you feel just a little bit cheap? (Check out the picture I used yesterday. I speak from experience.)
Wow, great timing! I am totally stuck on a passage in my WIP that I know needs to be there, but I can’t quite figure out why. Today I’m going to answer all of your questions and apply this exercise to that passage. It will un-stick me for sure, so thanks for this!
I’m taking an online writing course right now, and one of the instructors shared the term “heartbreak sunglasses” to describe how a character’s perspective/mood/experiences/goals all affect the way he/she sees a specific scene differently than any other character would — and even differently than the same character at a different time. I immediately went, “That’s what Don is always telling us to do with setting.” So now I have a cool term for it, too. :)
“Heartbreak sunglasses”! Love that!
Don, this was a delightful piece that entertained while informing. Thank you.
Enough about you; let’s talk about me.
I’m not certain what I believe regarding the big cosmic picture and fate vs. random acts of randomness. What I can vouch for in life is most actions/acts, no matter how seemingly insignificant, have a domino effect. Of course, in the present, we are unaware of this dynamic’s outcome.
A key element of crafting a compelling novel is presenting stand-alone events as if they are disparate appetizers to an undisclosed entrée so that the reader’s hunger is initially whetted and then ultimately satisfied.
Time for lunch.
Great piece. I’m editing a manuscript, so perfect timing. Good luck with the puppy. We have two all because of the kids. It’s an adventure. :-)
Congratulations on the puppy! She looks adorable. A handful, yes, but adorable. Our dog is a rescue as well, and has long hosted evidence of her former abuse–a mutt like her being used to herd chickens and, when she proved insufficient, was beaten. She’s now a very good, old dog and I’m lucky to have her.
Finding meaning in seemingly trivial scenes is one of my favorite things to do. My novel is sprinkled with little one-to-two paragraph ‘chapters’ about music theory, little snippets of dialogue, or little pieces of poetic thought. In my current scene, a good portion of these come together when my protagonist plays a song on the piano he learned in childhood for the girl he’s in love with. Not only do some whittled pieces of back story come out, they bond. Woven within the scene are some musical theory analogies spoken of earlier that you catch if you pay attention. There’s more going on with my female protagonist as well during this scene. Digging it all out through key action has been both a challenge and a delight.
Thank you for this. I’ll be thinking about it throughout NaNoWriMo. Maybe unearthing some hidden meaning and putting it on the page will up word count, yes?
*Sheep, not chickens. Whoops.
Very good article! I am constantly trying to add philosophical and psychological undertones to my writing.
I am also a believer as you said that everything must have a meaning in the story. If it doesn’t contribute to the story in anyway, it’s getting cut. I am all about word economy. Why would I want my readers to read double the words when they can get the same feeling in half?
To do this I personally use a lot of subtext.
Subtext is a writer’s best friend.
“Subtext is a writer’s best friend.” Oh yes. I do agree. But it’s not the writer’s only friend.
Hey all,
Thanks for your comments today. I’m at the Un-Conference in Salem today, having a blast, meeting many WU friends for the first time.
To catch some of what’s going on, keep up with the Twitter hashtag #WUUnCon Gems of advice are thick on the ground here.
Don, you’ve made a great decision rescuing a pal for your son. My adopted daughter obsessed about dogs and we finally rescued a 10-year-old poodle (http://www.adoptivefamilies.com/articles.php?aid=436). Now, 13 years later, we’ve rescued 5 dogs and my daughter is a certified pet sitter. Dogs gave her true purpose and confidence. As her car magnet says, “Who rescued who?”
LOTs of chew toys. Also slice up dessicated liver to hand out tiny bits with good behavior. Also, if wetting is a problem, sprinkle dry dog food where she went (after cleaning up), and she won’t go there. Dogs don’t poo and doo where they have eaten.
Of course, I look fondly at the chew marks on the furniture where my Mr. Darcy chewed when he was teething a few years ago.
Ironically, perhaps, our cock-a-poo pup, Cody, just turned 14 today! He still exhibits many traits of younger dogs. Thanks for sharing your story with readers! :)
OK, so let me see if I got the gist of what you were saying. In the novel I just started, (which will be the third in my urban fantasy series, the second in the series having just gone off to a freelance editor) the protagonist ends up being followed home by a stray kitten that guilts him into bringing it in out of the rain. Now, Raven is definitely not the sort of person that one would associate with stray kitties of uncertain parentage. He’s a reformed dark mage from a long, blue-blood line of dark mages, and still a dangerous man even if he’s now working for the right side. He likes opera and dresses in tailored, formal clothes.
His first thought is to dump the creature off with the cat lady down the street, but she insists adding another cat would upset the equilibrium of her feline household. When he says he’ll take it to the shelter in the morning, she informs him that the likelihood is that the kitty will be euthanized due to overcrowding. By this point, the kitten has tucked its nose into his elbow and is purring loudly. He ends up going home with a starter kit of cat supplies that cat lady gives him to see him through until the pet supply stores open in the morning.
He’s still not a warm and fluffy cat person– he names the cat Nuisance.
I first, I thought the scene was just a bit of color and a nice echo for further in the book, when he temporarily shelters a young mage who had fallen in with some dark and dangerous people. But then I realized it was doing more. Raven, who prides himself in being strong-willed, gets into a battle of wills with a three pound kitten and loses. Up until the point, all the good he’s done in his quest for absolution has been in areas he’s comfortable with and good at–magic, magical research, and problem-solving. Now he’s moving into areas that are smaller but more personal, and out of his comfort zone, and he has to expand and adjust his ideas of who he is and what he’s about.
And BTW, kudos to you for adopting a rescue dog. Friend of a friend used to work at a shelter, and because she was a licensed vet tech, part of her job was euthanizing perfectly healthy animals when the ran out of room. She threw up every day before work, and finally quit when she was throwing up blood because her stomach lining was so trashed.
Black dogs and cats are the hardest to place. . .by a huge margin. Don’t want to think about what that means about our society. Former shelter worker said that when people brought in litters of puppies in different colors and the shelter was already at capacity, her boss would make her go through the litter and euthanize all the black puppies without even trying to place them.
Check out the Monks of New Skete books on dog training. They were of great help when I was raising my late wolf hybrid. If nothing else, their anecdotes on Dogs That Behave Worse Than Yours will make you feel better.
Shawna-
You absolutely have got it. I love Nuisance! More, I love what Nuisance comes to mean and represent to Raven. Good work.
I didn’t know that about black dogs and cats. How awful. We love Lucy. People constantly say how beautiful and sleek her coat is.
Monks of New Skete has been recommended to us, thanks for mentioning those. Will be checking them out first chance I get.
It surprised me too, regarding black cats and dogs. Which is why I spread the word, so folks that don’t care one way or the other will take the black critters home from the shelter, knowing that they might not find a home otherwise.
It’s even worse, what happens to black cats around Halloween. Many shelters refuse to adopt out black cats in the month of October. Barn where I keep my horse once acquired an entire box of black kittens, plus the mama cat, ’cause it was a week before Halloween and a naive family was offering them to strangers outside a Safeway (Landlord told them the cats went, or they all went.)
I agree that Lucy is adorable!
Hi Donald,
I’ve had two lab puppy mixes, also. My last one passed away this year at age fifteen. I highly recommend you get her a basted bone to chew on along with some basted rawhide sticks or pieces. You can find both at Walmart. Labs love, love, love to chew. It’s in their nature, but it does lesson with age. My brother has a Great Dane and it loves to lean on me as I pet him. Boy is he heavy!
Good luck ;)
Oh yes, chew sticks have saved us, though not all of our furniture. Thanks!
Donald,
Our two puppies chewed off the plastic foot bar on the two seat kiddie glider on my kids swing set. I cringe when I think about what they could have done in our house. When they were almost a year old, we moved to the country. The guy that owned our acreage before us had cows, so every time I turned around the dogs where bringing home an old cow bone. Hey, it saved the waterhose, LOL.
Aww, what an adorable puppy! Thank you for sharing. I was also pulled into the story of your pup and almost forgot that this is an article on writing…
The part on writing was so thought-provoking. I’m going to sit here and write a bullet-point list of your main points, because I think they’re really going to help me as I work on the second draft of my epic fantasy.
Revising is hard! But with great articles like yours to help me out, I think I may just get through this. =)
Great post, really made me think about how to improve my writing process and that I should pay attention to the mundane.
“In our oppressively hip neighborhood you will be lashed if you own a purebred.” <–Favorite line in the whole post. I mean, the whole post is full of useful thoughts, thanks for that. But that line is gold.