Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘To Fetch A Thief’

Basket of Lights

Christmas comes up just once in To Fetch A Thief:

We crossed the desert, dark and empty, except for occasional distant towns, like baskets of lights. Why I mention baskets of lights is because once when Leda was decorating the Christmas tree – always an exciting time for me, and I end up outside – the lights were all coiled up in a basket and Bernie plugged them in for a test. This was back when Bernie and Leda were still sort of getting along, before that breakfast where she took a sip of coffee and said, “This isn’t working for me.” At first I thought it was something about the coffee, and so did Bernie.

Columbus Day Post: Down Mexico Way (From To Fetch A Thief)

I’ve been in dives before – that comes with the job – but never one as divey at La Pulqueria. Dark and smoky with walls stained brown and a floor that stuck to my paws with every step, plus a smell of human urine that was off the charts, if off the charts means the most powerful I’ve ever come across, except for that one time on the freeway when a truck carrying a load of portable toilets wrecked right in front of us.

There was one customer at the bar, slumped over it and motionless, his hand around a glass, drool coming from the corner of his mouth. We stood as far from him as possible. The bartender approached. She was hefty, wore a low-cut top and gold hoop earrings that touched her shoulders, looked kind of puffy and tired.

“Pulque?” she said.

“Cerveza, por favor,” said Bernie.

She opened a bottle, took a glass off a shelf and set them on the bar, said something in that Mexican way I didn’t understand. Bernie laid a greenback on the bar. The bartender seemed to perk up. She said something else. Bernie said something that made her laugh. Did it also make her lean forward, giving Bernie an even lower-cut view? Bernie tried and failed not to look; I’d seen that happen many times. He raised the bottle as though to fill the glass, then paused.

“Salud,” he said.

“Salud,” said the bartender.

Bernie drank, but right from the bottle. I couldn’t help noticing the fly at the bottom of the glass. Bernie was fussy about things like that. That was one difference between us. There may be others, but none came to mind at that moment.

Rereading

Any other rereaders out there? This recent Amazon review of To Fetch A Thief prompts the question:

“Rereading is just as much fun.I am reading this series again and enjoying it just as much the second time. Chet is an Everydog, who thinks the way we always suspect our own canines do.”

 

Beginnings

On Sunday we take a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. How about To Fetch A Thief? An elephant named Peanut plays an important role. (On the book tour a zookeeper told me I’d gotten her right. Whew.) Note: the Chet and Bernie novels can be read in any order. You could start with Of Mutts and Men, the most recent, and not hear a peep out of me.

“I smell trouble,” Bernie said.

Better stop right there. Not that I doubt Bernie. The truth is I believe everything he says. And he has a nice big nose for a human. But what’s that saying? Not much.

It’s a fact that trouble has a smell – human trouble especially, sour and penetrating – but Bernie had never smelled trouble before, or if so he hadn’t mentioned it, and Bernie mentioned all kinds of things to me. We’re partners in the Little Detective Agency, me and Bernie, Bernie’s last name being Little. I’m Chet, pure and simple.