Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Elizabeth's Three Untrained Dogs

Contest time!

In celebration of the release of THE RAVEN PRINCE (out today **HINT**) I’m having a contest at my website just for WW readers. Read—or skim, I’m not picky—this post and then hustle on over to my website to enter.

Okay, now on to serious, thought-provoking ramblings.

I have three dogs, and I know what you’re thinking—what a nutcase. I mean, WHO has three dogs? One dog is very respectable, two dogs can be contained at least, but tell anyone that you’ve got three canines and they know you’ve gone off the deep end of the pool of life and there’s not a water noodle in sight.

And it’s not as if my dogs are trained. Listen, I’ve seen those dogs that are well trained. The golden retrievers that walk docilely by their owners’ sides and never think about attacking garbage trucks. The poodles that look askance when a piece of food is somehow dropped at their feet. The spaniels that never, ever, jump on the couch, let alone the bed. Those dogs are not my dogs. I’m not certain that those dogs are even related to my dogs.

Pickle, for instance. She’s the littlest dog—a fur-challenged, overweight, rat terrier that believes with all her tiny little brain that she can attack a moving garbage truck and win. And why shouldn’t she believe that garbage trucks cower at the sight of her? After all, she reins supreme at home. Our biggest dog, Max, a eighty pound mongrel, meekly defers to Pickle—who weighs all of sixteen pounds.

Max and Pickle were our only dogs for a full year. And then we—actually I—got Fritz. Fritz is where the whole dog thing went downhill. He’s the third dog, the middle dog, the least smart dog. There’s just no excuse for Fritz. But, see, there he was, a twenty-pound, orange terrier mutt that vaguely resembled a not-too-bright fox, sitting in the middle of the puppy cages at the Humane Society. The rest of the kennel was full or something and they’d put Fritz in the smaller puppy cages and he was surrounded by incontinent babies. He sat, resigned, and a little depressed, and when I looked at him he put one paw up to the bars as if to say, for god’s sake get me out of here.

So I took him home, and sadly, I’ve never regretted it. I’m a lunatic with three untrained dogs.

Cheers!
Elizabeth
www.elizabethhoyt.com

4 comments:

Jennifer Y. said...

Trained or not...they sound adorable.

Dannyfiredragon said...

Hi Elizabeth,

I read your book and I really loved it. Great debut novel! Can't wait to read the next one

Diane Perkins said...

My sister has four Yorkies. At least I think she has four I lose count.... They all yap. But this does not let you off the hook because I think you and my sister are very strange.

Now we recently brought my daughter's cat into our household. This makes FOUR cats. They all hates each other and the new cat brought in a strange infection and fleas and I've already spent a fortune.....
But four cats and mortgaging your house to pay their vet bills seems entirely normal to me....

CYBER CONFETTI to celebrate your book!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elizabeth Hoyt said...

Why, thank you, Dannyfiredragon!

Hmm, Diane, cats that hate each other? Give me yappy dogs any day!

But thanks for the cyber confetti!!!