First, thank you to the latest reviewers of Fightball: Dying of Suck!
Thank you to Megan … WHY MUST I ALWAYS LIVE MY LIFE IN FEAR?
Holly … It shines brightest with children’s dialogue; you won’t even mind the slugs
Snowflake Kisses … You can’t help but fall in love with this family … also laughter!
and an anonymous Amazon Reader who may be Liz — Liz, was that you? – who said … I laughed at something on every single page.
Five-star reviews, all of them.
Bringing the total number of reviews to 31.
Which means I’m still working on getting to 50.
In other awesome news, Fightball: Dying of Suck is the featured book over on author Jen Ponce’s site. Jen describes herself thusly: Writer of kick ass women and oogy monsters. One-handed, ax-wielding zombie hunter/reader.
Which is pretty damn awesome.
HUGE gratitude to Jen for volunteering to share my book with her readers.
And now, a snippet of conversation as I pick up Jack the badly behaved terrier from the dog-boarding facility at which he stayed with Hazel the Weimaraner during our vacation.
Woman: I had to wash him. I’m not going to charge you for the wash, but there was no way I could send him home like that.
Woman: It was like he knew you were coming. He rolled in shit this morning.
Me: Thanks for washing him.
Woman: Intentionally. I watched him do it.
Me: He’s like that.
Woman: Every night, I had to chase him down and wrestle him into his crate for the evening. It was too cold to let him stay outside. Freezing temperatures. He had to come in where it was warm. Every night, he struggled.
Me: Sorry about that.
Woman: I thought you said he was used to being crated.
Me: He is.
Woman: He sure does bark a lot. I got lots of terriers around here, but he’s a special case.
Me: Mmm hmmm.
Woman: Generally, I let the dogs who are staying with me come in the house for a bit every afternoon to play with my dogs. Hazel was a perfect guest. Jack didn’t play nicely with the other dogs.
Me: Yeah, I thought that might be a problem. I believe I mentioned that might be a problem when I dropped him off.
Woman: So he didn’t get to come in the house to play after the first day.
Me: That’s fine. He can be a pain in the ass.
Woman: And the cedar bed you left for him is soaked with urine. SOAKED. No way for me to wash the cedar chips, so that’s a loss.
Me: I brought a garbage bag to carry it home.
Woman: So you’re used to him, huh?
Woman: He’s an odd little dog.
Me: He really is.
Jack comes flying into the kennel lobby and leaps into my arms, all damp and disheveled and barking incessantly.
I snuggle him close and whisper, “I missed you too, little man.”
He fart-barks a huge noisy cloud of stench against my body.
I missed you too.
16 thoughts on “The stench of love”
Love means always bringing a big garbage bag.
That should SO be on a T-shirt.
I thought the garbage bag was for bringing to hide bodies in. Huh. Guess I’ve been showing up in the wrong outfits for years.
Wait, YOU WEAR YOUR BODY-DISPOSAL BAG to events at which you imagine there might be a body (that is assumedly not yours) that needs disposal?
That is awesome beyond belief to imagine.
Fart-Barks! LOLing very loudly!
Fart-barks are the best kind of love.
According to a small terrier I know, anyway.
I’m laughing so hard at this and trying not to get the tear jerky Hallmark feeling at the same time.
RIGHT? Our relationship with our dogs is ridiculous and awesome.
You understand. I know you do.
That was me! I’m famous now :). We have a wire haired jack who is not allowed to kiss us because she eats horrible things but there is plenty of snuggling because of cuteness :)
How did I miss this last night? Sorry about that. Terriers are amazing in their ability to make their people accept horrendous and malevolent behavior in the name of adorableness.
Because my Jack is evil, but he’s so damn cute.
I’m weak for the cute.
“He’s an odd little dog.”
I wouldn’t want anything less than that in a pet.
Now off to read the review.
Seriously … he’s been an “odd little dog” from the get-go, and I couldn’t love him any more than I do.
It’s like living with a furry super-villain.
WHO DOESN’T WANT THAT?
The fart barks. My current doc doesn’t have those but my brother’s dog does. She’s a big dog. She’ll make your eyes water and your gag reflex work overtime. LOL But she’s so stinkin cute you’ll forgive her Every. Single. Time.
So I’m half way through the book and my fiancé keeps coming to check on me because I laughed so hard I gave myself the hiccups. I am loving it so far!
Ok, first? I love your typo that suggests your doctor might fart-bark. LOVE.
Second? YAY FOR READING AND LAUGHING! That’s so awesome.
Thank you, Vicki!
I may or may not have bought Fightball at work after my boss told me she had nothing for me to do.
Best work day ever!
Also I love Jack stories.
Best image ever.
Also, I like Jack stories as well … his character had to be trimmed a bit in Fightball because he swears a lot.
Jack informs me he wants his own fucking book.
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