I Don't Like New Things

Ovidia--every other Tuesday

I like the idea of them and I admire (and envy) people who embrace them and plunge in (Thank you, Stan!) But when it comes to actually stepping into something unfamiliar—like this new Substack—I find myself hesitating, resisting, wanting figure it all out before I begin.

And no, I don’t like this about myself. And I don’t like things changing.

These were my darling doglets, Princess and Hermione ten years ago.

They’re gone now. For a long time I was sure I could never have another dog because no other dog could replace them. And I didn’t want to let them be replaced.

I felt that way before— When I was in primary school and they started clearing jungle and moving people out of the hillside farms in what I’d thought of as wilderness behind our home.

In those days the ‘jungle catchment area’ extended all the way across to Bukit Timah Hill. It felt like the green on granite heart at the centre of Singapore island had always been there and would always be there. It was full of jungle chickens, monkeys, snakes, and the occasional wild pig. There were treks worn to the wild durian and chempadak trees and children would compete with monkeys for ripe mangoes, bananas and rambutans. When the construction began, we used to climb up the slope and walk along the levelled earth, not understanding what it was becoming and assuming it would soon go back to ‘normal’.

Today, that stretch is part of the Pan Island Expressway.

There are no more jungle chickens and no way (for people or pangolins) to cross over on foot.

And when they opened up that stretch of the expressway I remember realising that things would never go back to ‘normal’. And that what I’d thought of as ‘normal’ was just how I’d seen things from my limited (in place and time) POV.

I’m also thinking about letting things go because we’ve just had the sea burial—

Burial urns being released into the elements.

Another reminder that we have to let things go.

Writing is also particularly challenging now because I’m trying something new there too. I can’t talk about it because of I want to figure out what I think of it on the page. I’ve got to where I have a kind of structure I like but am clearing out stuff that’s no longer useful or relevant given how the story turned out (for now) and I need to cut a lot of stuff--which always hurts.

At about 30,000 words now, possibly less tomorrow depending on how much gets culled.

I started writing for theatre and now, when shaping a book, I feel like I’m trying to be the director, scene, set and lighting designer, manage the sound system as well as act all the parts.

And now, trying to step into Substack, I feel like I’m walking into a new space with a producer I’m not familiar with.

It’s like trying to figure out characters (especially the unpleasant ones whose nonsense has to make sense to them) while hosting a complicated gathering and figuring out who gets invited into the VIP room (because Sponsors) and will they be happy with Prosecco and dim sum and how to make sure those who come because they love you (and are quietly hoping there won’t be anything too activist, alternative or otherwise alarming) are comfortable with what they find within your pages.

And I always feel I’m not ready yet.

The problem is, the expressway gets built whether you’re ready or not. The wilderness changes and the story moves forwards.

Singapore is always changing and remaking itself because we are so short of land. It’s like living in a Minecraft scenario where the landscape is always changing.

And yet the past never quite disappears either.

And maybe my discomfort and resistance to change is part of the whole process.

When Princess and Hermione died it felt wrong to even consider another dog. But now we have Sophia.

She’s not Princess or Hermione but entirely herself—but with echoes of them both.

Our Scruffy Sleepy Sophia.

And I’m coming to understand what I didn’t when I watched the roads being carved through our jungle spaces: things don’t come back, but new things come as you let go and move on.

Notes from the Saggy Middle

Ovidia--every other Tuesday

I suspect all writers (and too many readers) are aware of the 'saggy middle' stretch where nothing much seems to be happening.

It kind of feels like that's where we're at in Singapore right now. Everyone's recovering from the crush of major festivals: Christmas- Chinese New Year- Hari Raya Aidilfitri and there's just a little time to breathe now that it's Lent and Easter doesn't come till April 5 this year.

I was thinking that I had nothing to write about this week--not because nothing has happened, but because so many small but good things have.

The best of these is, I have a new office assistant:

I can't believe we didn't realise how smart Sophia is--she just didn't understand our expectations. Now she not only walks on a leash, as soon as she sees me unhooking her harness she lies on her tummy and lifts her two front paws to slide them into the correct loops.
I might be biased, but isn't that dog level genius? She also responds to 'Sit' and 'Stay' even when other dogs are around and holds the current record for digging out treats hidden in egg cartons or wedged into toilet rolls.
Best of all maybe, she's come to understand the yoga mat in my exercise room isn't a second toilet!

Now she sleeps in the corner while I put my daily time in.

But I'm glad I'll be going to yoga and pilates classes again soon. We'll be having the sea burial ceremony (ashes in an approved sea burial pot) for my dad in law this coming Saturday and then the official mourning period will be over.

I've also really enjoyed the first German class we attended. It's been a long time since I've got to study something according to schedule and I realise I've always approached things by plunging in and going full immersion. But I'm seeing how my fellow students work in structured systems, making vocabulary lists and so on.

So I'm taking this as a chance to learn about learning instead of relying on excitement and momentum!

I've also got to a point where I feel like I know (for now at least) where the next book is going. I can feel it taking shape, bones and organs forming and I'm hoping to get a rough draft down by the end of next month.

And through all this I'm very aware how lucky we are to have quiet moments and safe spaces here, with eveything that's going on in the rest of the world.

Dreaming of a Durian Christmas

 Ovidia--every other Tuesday

Heavier rains than usual have produced a larger than usual durian harvest in Malaysia, meaning durian prices will be down over Christmas, meaning that's what we'll probably be celebrating with this year!

Our own trees (well, the ones just outside our gate) didn't get the memo, though--

 --it looks like they're done fruiting for this year.

In pre-Covid days, once the flowers dropped, people would stand around discussing how the fruit looked and speculating on when it would drop. And it was a lesson in patience, because this is one fruit that cannot be harvested (or you risk angering the tree spirit and all future fruit will be tasteless). 

I've only ever been present at one fruit drop, that was after a heavy rain so only one other lady was around waiting. (I'd been on my way to the bus stop, honest!) We both heard the heavy thump and I went down the slope into the undergrowth and retrieved it for her. She was so happy and said, "I will keep it for my son tonight," I suggested that since that one tiny durian wasn't much for her, her son and their domestic helper, I buy her another from the stall up the road (this was when Uncle Lee, our neighbourhood durian uncle was still alive) but she said no. 

"If I want to eat I can buy for myself. But this one I saw drop, is good luck," She wanted to give me a seed of it, to share the good luck, but durian before going on public transport isn't a good idea!

There's a maximum fine of $500 if you're caught carrying durians on the MRT system. 

Of course durian sellers have their ways of getting around that. In the old days my dad would bring home whole durians and pry them open with a cleaver in the open air courtyard with all of us squatting around.

Now there are fewer plantations and more durian sellers.

I love this mural--but that poor woman is about to hit by a falling durian!

These days durian sellers open and package the fruit, some advertising special 'vacuum packaging' that will let you carry your durian home without stinking up your car or even "by bus, train or airplane without getting fined!"

But how does buying durians work? You go to the stall and see what they have to offer/ tell them your preferences: sweet, bitter or bittersweet? hard or soft? small seed or big seed?

 

I'm no good at picking fruit (connoisseurs will sniff and shake the fruit, pinch the spines to test for stiffness and scrape the stem to look for greenness). I find durian sellers I trust and leave it to them!

My preference is for soft, bitter fruit with small seeds and one of my favourites is the Mao Shan Wang or Mountain Cat King which ranges from bittersweet to bitter. I also love the D24 with its small seeds and darker yellow, almost orange bittersweet flesh.

They should open and show you the fruit for your approval. I like softer fruit (yes, even in bananas and apples) so I also like the XO durians which are really really soft--

--soft enough to put some people off. They come with a slightly alcoholic aftertaste, which may explain the name!

It's not just us humans who love and wait patiently for durians to drop naturally though. There are always birds, squirrels and monkeys lurking in the vicinity of fruiting trees. There are also stories of how, in the old days, tigers and wild boars would stake out rights to particular trees in the wild, and anyone who took fruit from those trees would be followed back to their villages and attacked.

(Yes there's a murder mystery here and I'm going to play around with the idea if no one else wants it!)

And our two doglets loved durian too, especially our Princess, who died this year. This will be our first Christmas without our darling little dog who used to adore durian!

 (That's Princess winning the race above. Behind her is Hermione aka The Duchess, who died two years back.)

I'm going to miss our silly Christmas rituals like doggy treats and gifts and doggy photos. But we who are still alive will create new traditions.

 Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays Everyone!

A Dog's Tale

Sujata Massey 

I've invited a special guest writer this week. Daisy, approximately four years old by the human standard, is a Yorkshire terrier mix who has become the heart of our home. I am devoting most of my time this week to rewriting a manuscript, so Daisy kindly agreed to share her thoughts with Murder Is Everywhere Readers. My apologies if she runs on too long—she’s the kind of dog who does what she wants.

 

 

Greetings, gang! It's about time Sujata let me speak for myself. I may not write books, but I like to on top of them and laptop computers which have no business being on laps. 

I consider it one of my jobs to remind the writer I live with about reality. In the real world, dogs need to go outside, okay? And I need Sujata to know that when I stand on the back of the sofa, barking out the window, it’s because I am preventing possible crimes by other dogs and even humans. I am doing my job as household guardian. I may only be ten pounds, but I'm faster than anyone around here. 

 

I have lived with this family since 2018, when Pia walked into the living room with me in her arms and said to everyone that I belonged to a friend of hers and was just visiting for the afternoon. Above is a silly picture she took of me during this time. You can see how much love I feel.

Ha! I kept quiet, but the fact was, she had seen my picture on Facebook because someone wanted to sell me. I lived with two other families before the Masseys. The families were too busy to take care of me, so I didn’t learn a lot of puppy stuff—except for being friendly. But in the early months of my life, I saw people fighting. I was once thrown out of a window to show how mad someone was. I don’t like to go into the details, because it's traumatic. Because of what happened before, it was harder for me to become house-broken. I also am frightened by raised voices, and I freak out when people raise their arms high.

My new father, Tony, is a psychiatrist. He describes me as an empath. I'm not sure what that means, but it might have something to do with the fact that I look very closely at you if you might sneeze or seem very excited about something. If someone cries, I put my paws on their shoulders and kiss them until they are back to normal. 

 

I actually was the second dog in this house. Charlie was the only dog they expected to live with. When I met him, he was a twelve-year-old, extremely quiet Beagle who had almost forgotten how to play. I was about eleven months old, so I had a lot of energy and made him play with me. I teased him a lot in the early days, but he still fell in love with me. He followed me everywhere, even though I was so much smaller than him. Even though I was the second dog, I was never second banana.

 

2021 was the hardest year in my life. Just as spring was beginning, my buddy Charlie died. He was getting very sick and thin and finally went to sleep in the sunshine on the deck. I didn’t know that he was really gone forever, so that first night alone, I sat on the dining table all night, hoping he would come back through the door. 

 

A month later, Pia died. I get confused because I sometimes see girls with very long dark hair like hers, or who wear similar kinds of sweatshirts. I will always remember her letting me go off-leash outside and run. Pia liked to rev me up and made my life very exciting. I am fortunate that her brother Neel is home from college. I can snuggle with him in his room for hours. And what a room it is--often, I will find French fries or a pizza crust. It's better than doing book promotion with Sujata.

 

Still, I’ve been inside the house too much. Maybe you can relate? I sit next to Tony while he Zooms for work, and I get on Mom’s yoga mat when she gets into the play positions. I like yoga better than book promotion.

 

I know that dogs are very lucky not to catch coronavirus the way cats and tigers have. However, I don’t like masks. When Sujata takes me on walks, other people walking their dogs go on the other side. And that social distancing made me even more nervous about dogs than I already am. I get frightened if a dog looks at me. I have to bark back, so nothing terrible happens. 

 

My dog walker, Betsy, is a very nice lady. She kisses and cuddles me when she visits about twice a week. I don’t care that she wears a mask, because her eyes are always smiling. Betsy started some doggy playgroups during the pandemic. I was very scared the first time I went inside my special spot in her car which was jam-packed with four other dogs who all knew each other. They were a pack, and I was the newcomer. But nobody bit me or growled. They let me join them.

 Soon I was going with them twice a week, and if I could get away with it, I’d rush to the front of the pack to lead. During these walks, I visited parks and neighborhoods all around Baltimore. Occasionally my parents left home for important reasons, and I stayed overnight with Betsy and her daughter. Sleepaway camp! 

 

Right now, it’s the middle of winter. I believe this spring will be happier than the last one. I am already dreaming about the budding of daffodils and tulips and other lovely areas to leave some pee-mail for others. But for now, I am sitting comfortably on the radiator cover by the big window, keeping an eye out for our beloved mail carrier. I will whimper with joy when I see Tom step on our porch, and if he knows I'm here, he will wave at me. 

We will have our special moment.

 

And at exactly four o’clock, I will jump off the couch and appear in Sujata’s study to remind her it’s time for dinner. 

 

Love to all of you,

Daisy

The Angst of Small Dogs

 Sujata Massey

Daisy, what do you think?

Less than 40 miles from here, some big dogs moved into a big house.

Two German Shepherds. The old one, at age 12, is a fellow named Champ, and the younger one, Major, is two. Major had been left by his previous owner at an animal shelter in Delaware. After President Joe and Dr. Jill Biden adopted him, he's now the nation's second dog, or perhaps vice-dog? Champ, with his years of experience, is clearly Top Dog.

Stop your kvetching. Yes, Champ and Major are show-off, macho names. However, a flower name like yours seems incongruous. What's that? You worry they look like they're partly wolf? There's controversy over whether wolves were bred into the German Shepherd community in the late 19th century. It might be. But remember, all dogs, large and small, are descended from wolves. 

In any case, shepherds are intelligent, loyal, and protective--just like Yorkshire terriers, but at upwards of 80 pounds. They are working dogs, often used on farms and with the military and police.

Oh, so now you're bragging about your own working dog origins. It's true that Yorkshire terriers were originally used to catch mice in the mills and factories of England. However, the last time that you were in the room with a live mouse, I was yelping, and you were sleeping.  

I understand that the arrival of Champ and Major at the White House makes you nervous. And while I've met some great German Shepherds, some have been a bit more mouthy and assertive than made me comfortable. But I haven't heard anything crazy about these dogs. I believe the Bidens can shepherd these Shepherds. 

You'll be fine, Daisy. We aren't going on a march in D.C. to protest these newcomers. And don't ask me for my credit card number. Move On is not taking contributions to fight for your cause.

And I promise, even if I do go to the White House someday, I won't pet them.

Of Dogs and Other Furry Friends in India

Sujata Massey

what is it?

On my recent sojourn in India, I kept a lookout for animals.

This is because I’m striving to write a lot more about animals in my books. They may not solve a crime or talk (thank God!) but they will be characters.

In my book-in-progress, Perveen Mistry 2, I've included an Indian breed dog called Rajapalayams that were especially appreciated in royal households of Tamil Nadu. Rajapalayams are handsome white hounds that look similar to many of the aboriginal pariah dogs seen throughout India. The reason there are different colorations and body types of strays in Indian cities goes back to these dogs mixing with breeds brought in by Europeans. Most of the dogs I see in India are gingers. But I've  learned that it's mostly dust I'm looking at, not the real color of the fur underneath.

I also have different kinds of monkeys swinging through my story. One is the rare Lion-Tailed Macaque indigenous to the Sahyadri Mountain range of Western India. He is elusive and beautiful. The other monkey I’m featuring is the Bonnet Macaque, a pink-faced monkey with a very long tail that is common in rural and urban areas. That monkey is super social and inadvertently becomes involved in a crime.

I have not heard about anyone bringing stray monkeys home from India. But I do know a few people who fell in love with stray dogs in India and brought them home.  

A well-built white hound who came from the streets of India used to visit Once Upon a Crime Bookstore in Minneapolis. When I was there, the dog was extremely interested in the scent of my pocket. He was also interested in the free tiny candy bars by the cash register. His owner told me he is always looking for food.

India is estimated to have 30 million stray dogs. In some cities, dogs are rounded up and exterminated as a public health control. There is an estimated 20,000 rabies deaths to humans from animal bites in India per year. However, some animal rights activists in India point out that 75% of dog bites in India are from pets, not strays. So where's the greatest risk?

I knew that I should not pet a dog while in India, but it was hard to resist. My trip took me from Delhi and Udaipur to Mumbai and Ahmedabad, going from north to west.  I noticed two styles of behavior with the stray dogs. Many of them roamed in family groups, and of course these dog families sometimes got in fights with others at night. I am a dog lover, but the sounds of these ferocious dog wars were pretty frightening. These dogs didn’t come near people, and people never touched them.

The other style of dog behavior was “individual beggar.” In Udaipur, I visited a college where a student club was formed to help with stray dogs. The students in the club feed the animals. When I visited outdoor areas in the college, very friendly dogs wanted to play. I could see they’d come to rely on the students for much more than a bit of supper. They were relishing love.

 In natural areas where tourists go, like the Matheran Hill Station—where I visited in 2016-- and Elephanta Island near Mumbai, dogs wag their tails, cock their heads, and beg for a petting. They are also the frequent recipients of leftover snacks and lunches—just like the monkeys who hang nearby.

I traveled by boat in the Mumbai Harbor to Elephanta Island, a site where tourists come to look at a labyrinth of cave temples carved between 450 and 700 AD. While there, I noticed a lot of scavenger dogs and monkeys. I was warned that the monkeys could be more than I bargained for. I was used to the idea of monkeys grabbing food of tables and from people, but here the bonnet macaque population is known to grab cell phones and cameras. I asked why and was told some people who train the monkeys, who are rewarded for bringing them these goods. However, Elephanta Island had no panhandlers, just a lot of successful vendors, so I am skeptical about this idea, at least on Elephanta. My theory is that monkeys are smart and become annoyed at being gawked at without getting a payment of food.

It was funny to see monkeys drinking from half-filled soda bottles (especially sweet drinks like Pepsi). Monkey see, monkey do. Yet I wondered about the impact on their teeth and health.  Just across the path from the soda-drinking monkeys, dogs were tucking into the remains of food still in foil wrappers. I hoped they knew when to stop.

Most Indians don’t keep dogs in their homes, but it’s common for one stray to be fed regularly outdoors by a person. A popular news story  during my trip was the behavior of a stray dog that always showed up by the ladies’ only car of a Mumbai commuter train in the evenings. When the passenger the dog waited for didn’t arrive, she would run sadly after the train, and then return to her puppies. Who was the one who fed the dog? Did she just change to a different train…or did something else happen, the mystery writer in me wonders?

Films of this black and white dog have thousands of YouTube views. The story of a loyal dog coming to the train reminds me of the tale of Hachiko, a dog who regularly looked for someone to arrive on a certain train in the evening at Shibuya Station. This dog tale, which took place in the 1930s, is so beloved that it resulted in a statue of the dog at Shibuya Station and a Richard Gere movie, Hachi, retelling the legend in an American setting.

My dogs Daisy and Charlie, who nap by a cozy, odorless gas fireplace live better than many people in my city. I will never feel comfortable about that. However, I am glad that our two dogs that had tough lives to begin—especially our beagle, Charlie, who lived caged up for years in a puppy mill—can enjoy serenity in their later years.

For animals living the free range lifestyle in India, I wish good weather, plenty of water, and a safe bite to eat.

The New Dog Blog

Sujata Massey

Daisy, newest resident of the Massey household

I thought I was done with babies fifteen years ago. But there’s a baby in our Baltimore house again—a fur-baby. 

She arrived by car!

The adventure began when my college student daughter was scrolling Facebook and found a frantic post from a woman overwhelmed with four children and two dogs. The smaller dog was a winsome puppy who was too hard to train. My daughter bought the dog and had it headquartered at a friend’s place. The two of them named her Dazy. In our house, she became “Daisy.”

What the hell is this little animal?

Daisy is an odd looking scamp—sometimes I think she looks more like a weasel or fox than hound. Some have said she looks like a Wookie from Star Wars, but I don’t remember Wookies. Chewbacca? The dog appears to be a Yorkshire terrier mix, with the addition being perhaps Chihuahua or something else. She’s about ten months old, weighs a tad more than 8 pounds.

Charlie is the canine patriarch

We did not appreciate our daughter buying a dog, even if she was ostensibly bunking somewhere else. We already had a beloved dog—an elder statesman beagle. Charlie has three jobs: firstly, sleeping on the couch; secondly, writer’s muse, and finally, the harbinger of any suspicious dogs passing the house. Given his solitude and set routine, we didn’t think a 12-year-old gentleman would like a high-spirited puppy running around. We expected snarling or avoidance.

Now they're family

From the moment he met her, Charlie fell in love with Daisy-perhaps because she’s female, small and cute. Daisy is non-dominant and very affectionate, but she sometimes shows her jealous streak, trying to cut Charlie off when he heads for the comfort of  my lap. Her best trick is to begin barking at the side door, which causes Charlie to jump down from the couch to run and defend the household. Once he’s vacated the couch cushion, Daisy gracefully jumps into it.

This is to show scale!

Over time, the big boy and the little girl got to know each other beyond the pretty faces. Daisy began spending whole weekends here when my daughter was busy. After the friend lost housing and became an ex, Daisy moved in with us for the duration. We are working with a dog trainer on walking and other important behaviors, but it seems that Daisy’s working equally hard training us. We sound like idiots now. “She’s done both numbers!” is the victory cry I make during a good morning or evening. There is a lot of walking going on—yes, it cuts in on writing, cleaning and bathing—and also lots of throwing of chew toys.

Sadly, Daisy’s idea of a really good chew toy is a mahogany dining table. Bitter Apple spray only dissuades her temporarily. She’s a lot of work, but she has taught Charlie to play like he's young again. The sight of them tangling together with gentle grunts is as sweet as when my human children played Legos.

Belly cushion for nap time

Airplane reading

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BOUCHERCON HIATUS

Bouchercon calls one again, so here is one of the earliest blogs I wrote - in April 2012.

____________________________________

Little has changed sinceI found myself without a book to read on my flight to Boston this morning. At least a real book. I had plenty of ebooks, but wanted something to hold. What better than the Sky Mall in-flight shopping magazine. I should have looked at it long ago. I didn't know what I was missing.

Although I love dogs, I have not had one for a long time, due to a busy travel schedule. Reading Sky Mall, I came to realize that I was completely out of date when it came to knowing what dogs liked.

The first item I came across was the Comfy Couch Dog Bed. "Furniture- grade craftsmanship and materials create the ultimate canine retreat." I was pleased to see that it provided orthopedic support, while spun polyester fill, which I was pleased to learn was 40% 'loftier' than other fill, would relieve your poor dog's pressure points. A snip at $129.95 with free shipping. A bonus is that it comes with a tufted cushion and a bone pillow, although I am not quite sure why a bone needs a pillow.

For an additional $99.99 you can order a 360 Stainless Steel Fountain that provides five, free-falling water streams of filtered water that improve your pooch's health by encouraging it to drink more. It features replaceable charcoal filters to remove bad taste and odors to "provide constant pure water pets need and crave". Now I know why the fox terrier, Spotty, that I had as a kid, would turn up it's nose at our tap water.

I see, however, that Spotty's nervousness could have been alleviated had we bought it a Thundershirt. This ingenious invention provides gentle, constant pressure" that "has a profound calming effect for most dogs when anxious, fearful, or over- excited." This is clearly a wonderful invention. "It is similar to swaddling people with autism ... to relieve persistent anxiety."  It is to be used for "fear of thunder, fireworks, separation anxiety, travel, and general fearfulness." I wonder if they have one in my size. At $39.95, it would be a snip, especially in pink.

Walking a dog, when it needs to relieve itself, can be a drag. Don't worry, Sky Mall has the solution in the form of Porch Potty, which is "great for apartments and condos." this essential addition to your living area "gives a clean grass area right on your porch patio, or indoors.... includes plush synthetic grass, scented fire hydrant, and both indoor and outdoor drainage." It is almost worth spending the $224.99 (+$5) to find out what the scent is. For an additional $30 to upgrade to the premium version, you will get "an automated rinse and drain system that utilizes embedded sprinklers and an optional timer to assure the cleanest environment possible." I can't wait to see my guests' looks when the sprinklers go off in my living room.

For those who actually like to walk their dog, Sky Mall provides as well in the form of the retractable All-In-One Pet Leash. It offers "a water bottle, treat dish, 15 waste bags, bag dispenser, and safety color-coded strap." I have to admit I have not figured out why the strap is color-coded.  Perhaps the red strap is for when the dog's need is urgent; the green for normal ablution requirements. An additional benefit is that this must-have device "protects dogs from the dangers of drinking contaminated groundwater". Now I think of it, perhaps dipping the color-coded leash in puddles indicates how contaminated they are. Fortunately, this item also comes in pink. I only hope it is the same pink as the Thundershirt.

Of course, if you are going to take your dog for a walk, you wouldn't want it to pull you eagerly when it sees a contaminated puddle.  Fortunately there is a solution for that too. You can put The Tug-Preventing Dog Trainer between the color-coded leash and the dog. This essential device emits a harmless ultrasonic tone that canines find irritating yet is inaudible to humans". That is good to know. The ultrasonic tone becomes louder the more often the dog tugs.  (How would you know?) for sensitive dogs you can reset the volume level. Phew, I was worried.

I don't think I have any money left over to buy the Dog Training Device that "draws your pet like a magnet with its special scent that is irresistible to both male and female dogs".   Same scent as the fire hydrant, perhaps?  

Or to buy The Wisdom Panel Insights that has one simple test that "can explain your mixed- breed dog's unique behaviors, personality traits and wellness needs". I wonder if it is a multiple-choice test.

Or to purchase Scat Mats to keep my dogs off the furniture.

Next week I may have to blog about the Traveler's Bed Bug Thwarting Sleeping Cocoon or the Hand Reflexology Massager. Or the Dry Eye Relief Kit. Or Bigfoot, the Bashful 'Yeti' Tree Sculpture.

I can't wait to get home to see what UPS has left for me.

Stanley - Thursday

Black dog syndrome

by Jorn Lier Horst, Norway

I've been away from the blog for a few weeks and have not had the opportunity to write my Wednesday posts. There are two things that have prevented me from writing. Firstly, I have published a new novel. A book launch always means busy days. Interviews and appearances. The second thing that happened was that I was attacked by a dog. A large black Rottweiler.

It happened one morning when I was out walking with my own dog, Teodor. On a forest trail, we met a woman who was out with her two huge rottweilers. Even from a distance I signed that one of them was very aggressive, and I chose to turn. The excitable dog managed to tear himself away from the owner and came after us. It attacked my dog that I had to lift up and to safety. Then I was next. The big black dog tried to tear me down and bit me badly in the arm and back, and was not satisfied until the owner got him torn away from me. The incident sent me to hospital, but also on the cover of the newspapers. For you who read Norwegian you can get you the details here. The rest of you'll have to manage with the pictures of me and Teodor.

I've always been afraid of big dogs, and I know why. When I was 13 I was scared by a book. It all started when I was visiting a neighbor kid, playing in his room. He told me that his mother was reading an exciting book about a boy and his mother who had gone to a farm, but that their car had broken down in front of the barn. On the farm there was a mad dog that had killed the farmer and eaten up his wife. Now the dog walked around the two in the car and drooled and wanted more blood. Then I could not help myself. I tiptoed out to his mother who sat on the sofa and read. I hid behind the sofa back and began to snarl, softly. From where I sat I could see that her hackles rose. So I yelled and barked loudly. She was so frightened that she jumped high above the couch and put her legs well under her before she landed again.

Some might have guessed it. She read Cujo by Stephen King. I borrowed the book from her afterwards. One thing was that it made me afraid of dogs (such as Jaws made me afraid to swim in the ocean), but the reading experience also told me about how books can take us to a completely different place. How it is possible to immerse ourselves in a story. The book came in 1981. Have not you read it? Do it, or watch the movie! (Cujo was a St. Bernhard dog, by the way - not a Rottweiler)

From the movie "Cujo"

I'm probably not the only one who is scared of big, black dogs. Black Dog Syndrome is a disputed theory that black dogs are the last to get adopted at shelters because of superstition or a perception that they are aggressive. But my fear is irrational. When I met my wife, her parents had a Rottweiler as a family dog. It was probably one of the nicest dogs I've ever met. All dogs are special, with individual differences. Rottweiler has nevertheless gained a reputation, partly because it had military tasks for the German Army during both the first and second world war. Rottweiler is normally a balanced, peaceful and persevering dog, which often form strong ties to the family. A typical Rottweiler is fearless, stubborn, courageous, faithful and very patient. Usually an's best friend.

Jorn Lier Horst