The Dog Days of Summer One Particular Dog's Way by Margo Hoornstra

Life is busy. Summer for me, especially so. But I have a post due here today, and no idea what to say. So I'm going to say something I've said before way back when I first started posting on this blog four years ago. Wait! What!? Four years ago? Doesn't seem possible.

This essay was actually contracted and paid for by Country Woman magazine, but never published. It concerns a flourishing vegetable garden, a hungry rabbit and a dog who, I understand now, believed whole heartedly in peaceful coexistence.

************

 



That Summer Saturday began innocently enough. The clear, pleasant morning gave no indication of what was to follow as I took a cup of coffee and stepped out on the back deck.

It had been a busy week with many hours spent preparing and planting the plot of backyard land that would become my garden. I had tilled the soil and placed new seeds in the holes I’d dug then gently covered them with just the right amount of dirt. The plants I’d started a month before in the house were next, spaced just so to allow them ample room to grow.

“Better put something out there to keep out the rabbits.” My husband made the suggestion as the green shoots and young leaves began to flourish.

In my heart, I knew he was right. Drastic measures are sometimes necessary to combat the unscrupulous menace, the rabbit. Substances such as dried blood are sprinkled along the garden edge as a deterrent. Scarecrows decked out in Dad’s patch riddled jeans, Mother’s frayed paint shirt and Aunt Margaret’s once favorite straw hat, stand in silent vigil with a common goal to stop the crafty foliage robbers in their tracks.

Ah, but for me things were different. I had no need for such elaborate defenses. Patrolling my carefully tilled garden patch was my own man’s best friend and all around good dog, Jason. Born of mixed heritage, Airedale and Hound among them, he had the best traits of hunter and herder. Jason wouldn’t stand for an intrusion of his turf. I had a weapon no rabbit in its right mind would dare to challenge.

As I proudly surveyed the beginnings of my garden that day something beige at one corner caught my eye. I looked closer and my worst fear became a reality. A rabbit! In my garden! Contentedly chomping on my sprouts! With ravenous abandon no less, and absolutely no regard for the sweat and toil that went into producing them.

Leaping to my feet, I called out for Jason. Surely by instinct he would know what to do.  After a number of bellows from me, he appeared from around one corner of the house looking slightly perturbed at being so rudely summoned.

“There’s a rabbit in the garden! There’s a rabbit in the garden!”

I’m not sure if I sounded more like Paul Revere or Chicken Little. I could tell by the dog’s expression that he couldn’t decide either, and really didn’t care.

Apparently convinced that he would have no peace until he at least investigated, Jason came cautiously forward. Falling into step behind him, I remained in hot pursuit, arms flailing wildly as I hollered, “Sic ‘em!” with all the confidence of a general in command of a top-notch platoon.

Jason strolled to the middle of the yard, looked first at me behind him, then at the rabbit in front of him and made a valiant attempt to slip into the house. Being quickly thwarted in that maneuver when I pivoted to block his way, he calmly sat down to contemplate his next move.

“Get ‘em!” I ordered. Arms around his chest, I picked up the reluctant dog and aimed him toward the enemy.

Casting me a self-righteous, no rest for the weary glance, he dutifully meandered forward. Reaching a particularly sunny patch, he suppressed a yawn and lowered himself to a prone position. Ready to strike, I thought, until he rolled slowly to one side and settled his head comfortably on the soft grass.

Seeing that my ally had as much as gone over to the other side, I took it upon myself to bark and growl at the offending rodent. My taking control of the situation seemed to suit Jason just fine as he closed his eyes to catch a nap.

And the rabbit? He left quietly after eating his fill. Or maybe he was just tired of all the commotion.

As I mentioned, most of this post consists of a formerly written, but not published, manuscript. I certainly have plenty of those. The one here actually sold, by the way. I received the check and everything, but for whatever reason it was never used.

Some of my other ‘unsolds’ are now up as free reads on my website at WEBSITE

 

If you’re so inclined, enjoy.

Nothing wrong with getting something for nothing huh?

Just ask that rabbit.

 

My days to blog here are the 11th and 23rd. And I have no clue what I'm going to talk about next time.

The Special Days at the End by Brenda Whiteside

Sprinklers say summer

Hot August nights are starting to wane. As I write this, it's my birthday - which signals to me the end of summer drawing near. As a young girl, school shopping was finished. On my birthday, I'd get those last few things I'd really wanted when we'd gone school shopping. Sneaky Mom.

Summer has never been my favorite season. I didn't like the heat of

Stormy summer skies

Golden squash from the summer garden

Phoenix, and I liked school. It still isn't my favorite season even though we spent nearly twenty years in Minnesota. Summer around the twin cities can be wonderful, especially compared to the heat of southern Arizona. Even in Northern Arizona the heat can do me in.

But there is something special about the end of summer. There's a change in the air and autumn holds more appeal for me. The mornings have been just a touch cooler here on the prairie so I can already look forward to the change.

Gabby, Xena and Rusty

I'm okay with the dog days of summer.

My summer short read releases exclusively on Amazon in a few days, August 27. Amanda in the Summer will take through three generations of women and their summers filled with love, pain, laughter and tears. 


Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.

Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9^th and 24^th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about prairie life and writing at http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Dog Days of Summer (or Using Dogs to Enhance your Writing) by Jannine Gallant

Ginger - she looks sweet...

July… A sun baked beach with the smell of tropical tanning lotion wafting on the breeze… The whir of crickets on a sultry summer night… A sweat dampened shirt and aching muscles, the stillness of the forest in mid-afternoon, anticipating a hint of breeze at the summit of the climb… All images I associate with The Dog Days of Summer. Of course the Dog Days wouldn’t be complete without the all important dog.

Ginger the stick loving menace to squirrels!

A dog at the beach means throwing a ball, over and over and over… In the evening calm, man’s (or woman’s) faithful companion lies in the grass and rolls to her back, all four paws waving ludicrously, and moans. The stillness of the forest erupts in a frenzy of barking as a squirrel scampers across the trail. See how a dog changes up the scene, either enhancing (or destroying) a mood, or adding comedy and excitement. Maybe that’s why I put them in all my books.

The following is a scene from After All These Years where my heroine, Chantal, discovers a skeleton. A scene like that isn’t easy to write. It’s hard to get the drama without making it totally cliché or worthy of an eye roll. Ace the basset hound adds that extra something that makes this scene work. (At least I hope it works! LOL)

Covered by a mass of honeysuckle, she saw the shape of a wing attached to a fuselage. The sun glimmered off the tip of a rudder protruding from a clump of ferns. It appeared to be a small, single engine plane. Ace sniffed around what was undoubtedly the cockpit, half buried in the earth. He gave a long, low woof and dug furiously.

“Ace, the plane has been there for years, probably decades. I don’t know what you hope to find.”

Undeterred, he continued his excavation, and then disappeared completely into the rusted body of the plane. Chantal climbed across the broken wing after him. “If you get stuck in there, so help me—”

Empty eye sockets stared up at her as the skull rocked precariously and toppled from the skeleton. Ace gave a final tug on the humerus clamped in his jaws and came away with the grisly prize.

“Drop it, Ace! Drop it this minute!”

I’ve also used dogs to tell my readers something about a character. How a person reacts to a dog is generally indicative of the type of person they are. Are they timid, concerned about their appearance, overbearing, reluctant? The list goes on. In Nothing But Trouble, my hero, Chase, learns something about Honor’s temperament when she’s introduced to his hound dog, Bo.

            At the truck door, she came nose to nose with a long eared, soulful eyed hound dog. He put his oversized paws on the window frame and gave her a sniff. Reaching out a tentative hand, she scratched his head. Tongue lolling, he moaned in response.

            “Move it, Bo.” The dog retreated at Chase’s command, and she opened the door. “I can make him get in the back seat.” His words held more confidence than his tone.

            She squeezed inside. “It’s okay. I like dogs.”

            Starting the engine, he smiled at her over the recumbent dog who’d draped head and shoulders across her lap. “That’s good, because he seems to like you.”

Have you used dogs in your writing? If not, give it a try. Or choose a different animal. Cats are full of personality. I can only imagine what they’d add to a scene. Hmm, I may have to change it up one of these days…

My books are available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online retailer. Buy links are on my website.