Chet The Dog

Archive for February, 2010

Re-Introducing Colonel Bob, Part 2 (From Thereby Hangs A Tail)

“Who’s your client?” said Colonel Bob.

Bernie smiled. Have I mentioned what a great smile Bernie has? “You haven’t changed,” he said. “The client is the husband of one of the missing women, Adelina Borghese. They own the dog.”

Adelina: in my mind I saw her with ants on her face, and didn’t feel like the biscuit anymore.

“And the other woman?” said Colonel Bob.

“Suzie Sanchez. She’s a reporter for the Valley Tribune. We were in Clauson’s Wells on a tip from her.”

“Got pictures of the women?” said the colonel.

Bernie did. I caught a glimpse as he handed them over: Adelina holding Princess; and Suzie and Bernie in our back yard at home. Colonel Bob studied that one the longest. “You married?”

“Not anymore,” said Bernie.

“This the ex?”

“No.”

“Any kids?”

“One.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Two girls here – twins. The mom got custody.”

“Uh-huh,” said Bernie. Silence. Bernie drained his glass and rose. “We better hit the road. I owe you guys.”

“Hell you do,” said Colonel Bob.

I rose, too.

“What a smart dog,” said the major. I liked the major; one of those humans with a feel for me and my guys.

“We’ll keep an eye out for these women,” said Colonel Bob. “And the pooch. But I wouldn’t mind a quick swing over to Clauson’s Wells, if you’ve got time. Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes? I didn’t know what that was exactly; but not long, right? And I’d come so far, although the details of the journey were getting a little hazy in my mind. But far, that was the point. So how was this going to be possible?

I only started to get it when we were actually up in the chopper, Bernie and me kind of close together in the back, Colonel Bob at the controls up front. Were we zooming or what? The ground down below blew right by. Wow. So this was how the birds felt. The pukey part, too, I wondered? The truth was I preferred the Porsche, riding shotgun.

Bark Magazine On Thereby Hangs A Tail

“I really like Bark,” Spence says. “They call it The New Yorker of dog magazines.”

“Oh?” says Admin. “Where’d you hear that?”

Uh-oh. They’re not getting along. Again.

“In book two of this mystery series, females are in trouble, and it’s up to Chet the dog and Bernie Little, an environmentally conscious private investigator, to solve the puzzle. Among the aforementioned females are Princess, a tiny “fluffball” show dog; her devoted guardian, Adelina Borghese; and reporter Suzie Sanchez, Bernie’s occasional girlfriend.

Driven by finances (or lack of them) to sign on as bodyguards for the pup and her person, Chet and Bernie find themselves kicked off the job in no time. But then Princess and Adelina are abducted, and the pair is hired by Adelina’s husband to locate them. When Suzie starts rooting around in Adelina’s background, she also disappears. This ups the ante considerably.

As in the first book, Dog On It, the story is told by Chet. Quinn is adept at seeing the world through a dog’s eyes – not mention his nose and ears – and Chet’s observations ring true for dog lovers. After all, who among us hasn’t imagined our dogs having this thought: “Loved riding shotgun: what was better than this? I stuck my head way up, into the wind: smells went by faster than I could sort them out, a kind of nose feast …”

When Dog On It came out, much was made of the identity of its author. That mystery’s been solved – he’s Peter Abrahams, writing under a pseudonym, and he has a long string of psychological thrillers to his credit. Here’s another secret revealed: Chet has a blog – check it out at chetthedog.com.

In her Amazon review, Rita Sydney says “Come for the mystery, stay for the story of the wonderful relationship between Chet and Bernie.” Since we couldn’t put it better ourselves, we second that emotion.

– Susan Tasaki”

Hockey (From Thereby Hangs A Tail)

I’d been in the Metro Arena once, back before the hockey team left town, me and Bernie working on a case involving some crazed fan. Hockey: the strangest game I’ve ever seen, made no sense, plus all the fans turned out to be crazed and we maybe didn’t even end up finding the right one and clearing the case, which hardly ever happens. Also, I got to go on the ice, supposedly a treat. Ice! Once was enough, let me tell you. Plus the players smelled very bad and the puck was none too tasty.

From Admin: There’s a rumor that someone in the comments section remembered the hockey scene and wants a treat. The vote here was 3-1 in favor, and therefore that someone is asked to remind us about the treat when pub date for book 3 nears.

Sneak Peek: Theological Discussion From Book 3

Sunday, meaning Elvis gospel, but don’t get me started on that, because then I might forget what I’m meaning to post today. That might have happened before about this very same post. In fact is it kind of happening now? What was it I was going to …? Oh, right. A short selection from book 3, just right for Sunday, Bernie says. So all I need to do now is hold that thought. Hold that thought, big guy. And one other thing, Admin says: spoiler alert!

We walked across the lot. Ollie was swinging one leg over the motorcycle when he saw us. He paused, then sat slowly on the seat.

“Got a moment?” Bernie said.

“Pressed for time, tell you the truth,” Ollie said.

“The truth is always a nice change of pace,” Bernie said.

“Huh?” said Ollie.

Bernie smiled, the kind that’s only about showing teeth. “Cool bike,” he said, putting his hand on it.

Ollie gave Bernie’s hand a look – he didn’t like his bike getting touched, hard to miss that – but all he said was, “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Came to express our condolences,” Bernie said.

“For what?”

“The circus’s recent loss.”

“What was that?”

“Uri DeLeath,” Bernie said. “Unless we’ve got the wrong funeral.”

“Nope, it’s the right one. He passed on.”

“One way of putting it.”

“Like, to the other side,” Ollie said.

“How do you feel about that, Ollie?”

“The other side, you mean?”

“Sure, why not?”

Ollie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. A certain kind of dude, the kind we always bring down, does that when he’s trying to have a thought. “I don’t know,” he said, eyes opening. “Is there a hell, too? Or just heaven.”

Bernie smiled again, this time the actually-having-fun type. “What if there’s hell and hell only? Ever think of that, Ollie?”

“Damn. You think that’s possible?”

“Depends on the point of all this,” Bernie said, “assuming there is one.” Ollie glanced around the way humans do when they’re trying to figure out where they are.