Posts Tagged ‘Dog On It’

A Review of Dog On It …


April 21st, 2020 Posted 8:06 am

… somewhat after pub date but very nice to see!


No More Gloom and Doom For Us


March 20th, 2020 Posted 11:31 am

Had a lovely bike ride this morning. Fresh air! Here’s Chet on that very subject from Dog On It, first in the Chet and Bernie series.

Fresh air, not too hot, lots of sunshine: this wasn’t too bad. My tail was up, alert, wagging just a bit. All in all, I was feeling pretty good, and if I did have any worries I couldn’t think what they were at the moment.


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Posted in Chet The Dog

Reader Q&A


August 28th, 2019 Posted 8:48 am

Over on Chet’s FB page, on Saturday we invited questions. Theresa Treep asked: “What inspired you to write mystery novels from a dog’s perspective? Chet has a very unique “voice” that makes him an entertaining narrator. I’m sure it’s challenging, though.”

The answer: One day my wife said, “You should do something with dogs.” I’d had dog characters in previous books – Buster in Oblivion, Nigel in the middle-grade Echo Falls series, even Garth in The Fury of Rachel Monette, my very first book – but you never saw inside their heads. I knew right away what my wife meant, went to my office and wrote the first page of what became Dog On It, just to see if it worked. It seemed to. All fiction writing is challenging, in my experience, but just between you and me, there’s a lot of fun to be had in writing in Chet’s voice.




August 25th, 2019 Posted 8:18 am

On Sunday we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two or three of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (and it gives us a chance to use “moniker”!). How about today we look at Dog On It, first in the Chet and Bernie series (which can be read in any order!).

I could smell him – or rather the booze on his breath, before he even opened the door – but my sense of smell is pretty good, probably better than yours. The key scratched against the lock, finally found the slot. The door opened and in, with a little stumble, came Bernie Little, founder and part-owner (his ex-wife Leda walked off with the rest) of the Little Detective Agency. I’d seen him look worse, but not often.

He mustered a weak smile. “Hey, Chet.”

I raised my tail and let it thump down on the rug, just so, sending a message.

“I’m a little late, sorry. Need to go out?”

Why would that be? Just because my back teeth were floating? But then I thought, what the hell, the poor guy, and I went over and pressed my head against the side of his leg. He scratched between my ears, really digging his fingers in, the way I like. Bliss. How about a little more, down the back of the neck? I hunched my shoulders a bit, giving him the idea. Ah, nice. Very nice.


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