“What is he doing here?” Julio Rodrigues demanded as Chief led me into the in-tar-o- gation room. It appeared like the other rooms with a table and chairs with one handcuff tightened over Julio Rodrigues’ good hand. His other hand, the one I bit and crushed, is all bandaged up.
The door was already opened and I sniffed. I recognized many different odors but they all were unfamiliar to what I remembered, and then I smelled the body. It smells somewhat familiar but from where?
When we got home, I guess it’s actually Detective Mike’s home because I became homeless when Master Bob died. But I digress because I’m a dog after all and back to the story here. We arrive at Detective Mike’s big house and big property and he led me to my kennel with my doghouse and inside was my blanket
“Chief, I got a witness who gave me a credible lead,” he said to a rather big man who wore suspenders over a white shirt and had a bolo tie drawn partially down to allow his top button to be opened. I sniffed his cotton trousers; he owns a poodle and a cat. He drinks coffee and just ate a donut. I was also getting hungry and so I sniffed the air for those same donuts.
During the night I roamed the bigger house. I was in a room Detective Mike called a pantry where cans of food were stored, and a blanket was set on the tiled floor. It was hard and reminded me of the doghouse I slept in at Master Bob’s house. I sniff everything. Her scent is everywhere on everything in the kitchen, the living room, and their bedroom.
I awoke at darkness time. Master Bob’s dark form laid there as it had since I fell asleep. My sadness deepened. I licked his face. It was cold and stiff. I felt hungry and thirsty. I walked around the darkened house, my night sight seeing everything in a grayish tone. I went by his bedroom across the hall from the bathroom and saw the curtain moving from a breeze. Well, that is interesting.
I reckon it’s a crap shoot, like anything else one invests their heart and soul into. I have worked hard to get this book into the hands of loyal readers than anything else I’ve done before. Maybe this literary agent is the godsend I’ve been looking for and everything will finally be fruitful for myself and future books yet to be published.
My loyal readers, I have no real history breaking news or antidotes of world leaders to share this week, just my craft which, as many of you know is a passion I will most likely continue to my last breath.
Okay, here is the good news that I have wanted to share for months now but only today am able to tell my loyal readers, my book I Albert Peabody is paid for through my diligent efforts. Like I said it’s been several months of suffering through in which case it seemed someone or something always seemed to get in the way.
Last night my writers’ group had a class in point of view. In case my loyal readers are not aware or have forgotten what they learned Junior High and High school English, point of view is the perspective of how the writer want to present his characters, such as first person: me, myself, or I, second person: you, or third person: he, she, them, they.