Howdy and guess what? I’m writing a book.
It’s about dogs and certain other creatures of the furred and feathered variety.
They say gross things. They do gross things.
And they do heaps and loads of other things, too.
Mystery type things and creepy type things.
Just so many things. SO MANY THINGS!!
But this really isn’t a children’s book, mother, and I’m sorry about that.
And I repeat, as I’ve done for the last twenty-five years:
This is NOT a children’s book.
But it could be if you don’t mind occasional gross things.
Nothing too gross, though. Just moderately gross.
Twenty-five years ago, I was freezing my keister off in an Alaskan log cabin, when I heard voices in the middle of a stormy night.
And there they were.
That’s how long I’ve had these characters and their story tumbling around in my head.
Twenty-five years = one quarter of a dang century.
In doggone dog years, I’m bone dust.
Anyway, when I’m done I’ll post the world’s shortest essay, even shorter than this one.
Here’s a sneak peek:
Roll me in feathers and feed me a beefsteak! The moose has written herself a bonafide, gosh darned book!!
And so I’m off to write a gosh darned book.
Oh, and speaking of feathers, we’re going to be chicken parents!
And on that tarred and feathered note, I bid you farewell.
Peace and glad tidings, folks!