Chet The Dog

Archive for January, 2011

(C+B)2

No moon. That always makes the stars brighter, at least in my opinion. Bernie and I are out on the patio, just gazing.

“There’s this new theory, big guy,” he says. “All about multiple universes. Ours would be just one of many. And I mean many. In this multiverse system there’d be so many that it’s a dead certainty that there’d be another universe identical to ours. See the implications?”

If implications were out there, I was missing them. The stars looked the same as always.

“The implication,” Bernie said, “is that in this other universe at this very moment, another Chet and Bernie are doing exactly what we are, gazing at the stars and having a conversation about us.”

Another Chet and Bernie? We’ve been working pretty hard lately, and when that happens Bernie doesn’t get enough sleep. I’ll have to keep an eye on him.

Sundays With Ingrid

“Hey,” says Spence. “The Florida Times-Union has a piece today on the five best girl sleuths since Nancy Drew, and one of them is:”

Ingrid Levin-Hill

Peter Abrahams, a master at plotting and suspense, has won awards and nominations for all three of his Echo Falls mysteries. Ingrid, a spunky 13-year-old, plays soccer, performs in local theater and reads Sherlock Holmes. In “Down the Rabbit Hole,” the first book, which won the 2005 Agatha Award for Children’s and Young Adult Mysteries and a 2006 Edgar Young Adult nomination, Ingrid tracks the killer of a reclusive woman. The story reflected the change occurring in children’s and young adult books at that time. The age range for young adult was dropping from 13 to about 10 and violence was becoming more realistic.

“Into the Dark,” the third book and a 2008 Agatha nominee, is the most gripping so far. Ingrid needs to clear her grandfather of a murder charge. She tracks clues, hones her deductive abilities, and, finally, confronts the killer in an explosive climax. Ages 10 and older.  – June Weltman

Where We Are: The Dog Who Knew Too Much

A little afraid, yes, but did Suzie back up? Not a step. “If something’s happened to Bernie I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

“I’d be shaking in fear if I knew what you’re talking about,” Guy said. “But since I don’t, it’s adios. Happy trails.”

He started closing the door. This was the moment for the foot-in-the-door trick, but Suzie didn’t seem to know it. The lock clicked. A bolt thunked into place. Footsteps moved away.

Suzie raised her fist to knock again, then paused and lowered it.

“Come on,” she said.

That was it? We weren’t busting down that damn door, charging inside, grabbing Guy by the pant leg?

“Chet?”

Suzie, part way to the car, had stopped and turned toward me. We exchanged looks.

“Ch – et?”

She said that just like Bernie. I left the doorstep and went over to her. We got in the Beetle and backed out of the driveway.

Suzie drove up the street, turned onto the next one, then the next one, and – hey! we were doing the round-the-block trick, one of our best moves, mine and Bernie’s! Suzie was catching on.

Can Spring Be Far Behind?

“Looks like there’s a lot of winter going on in other parts of the country, Chet,” Bernie says.

Uh-huh. We’re out on the patio behind our place on Mesquite Road. I’m lying in a nice patch of sunlight, feeling good.

“The Wall Street Journal here says that in the cold, small dogs, especially short-haired, inactive ones, often need some kind of coat when they’re outdoors.”

Coat? I have a coat already, nice and glossy today, as it happens.

“And here’s something I didn’t know. People use rock salt to melt ice, and it’s not good for dogs. It can hurt their paws, mouths and digestive systems. Even the supposedly pet-safe ones can cause problems if eaten in large amounts.”

What was this? Something new on the menu? I wait for Bernie to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead he has his face turned up to the sun, catching a few rays. Winter is what, again?