"A" is for Author -- Listening to Books with Polo, Letter by Letter

This material originally appeared on our library's website. I was fortunate to have been allowed to post book reviews there for a time. Please pardon the awkward formatting -- I'll try to fix it later. 

Sometimes I let my dog pick out books. Polo can’t actually read, so I limit his search options to things we can download and listen to together. I should warn you that Polo’s not a great fan of romance (too mushy), sci-fi (non-human creatures make him bark), or horror (he parks his 80 pounds of fear in my lap), but he enjoys a good mystery and a good all-around story. In order to keep track of new authors, we’re starting to move through the alphabet one letter at a time.

Here are our top three selections from authors whose last names begin with the letter A.

Adrenaline

This book opens with adrenaline, as the main character runs through his parkour workout in a half-constructed building in London. Leaping off one wall, scaling another, flying across gaps two stories high, grasping, clinging, propelling himself to the next ledge. The plot of the entire book follows these unpredictable twists and turns, from one danger to another. Part spy novel, part heartbreaking story of love lost, this was a great listen – and there’s a dog at the end! 

A Darkness Absolute

Way up north in Canada’s Yukon Territory is a secret town. Everyone who lives there has a deep, dark secret. Rockton is forbiddingly remote, a place for extreme witness protection. In deepest winter, the darkness is long and the suspense longer. When a resident takes off, it’s up to the local police force to find him before he freezes to death. But while searching for him, Detective Casey Duncan stumbles upon a woman being held in a cave. Who kidnapped her? How did they keep this secret? Will Casey and Chief Erik Dalton be able to prevent another kidnapping? Not only does this story provide chilling suspense, but Kelley Armstrong builds a fascinating community of characters whose company I missed when the book ended. Good thing there are more titles in this series, and Polo was thrilled about the big puppy who appears midway in this book. 

Thin Places

Skye’s mother disappeared after they were involved in a scary one-car accident. Although Skye was soon placed in a permanent foster home, she never felt like she belonged anywhere. Despite her emotional disconnect, Skye grows up and prepares to go away to college. The mystery of her mother’s disappearance finally begins to come out as Skye develops new friendships and opens up to a counselor. Can she ever have a relationship with her mother again? What happens to the fragile ties with her foster mom? If you haven’t yet read an “indie” book (produced by an independent publisher), try this one. (Although it's not available in audio formats, the book was short enough for me to read aloud with Polo.)

Hello? Hi? Is Anybody There?

Golly, when did the wallpaper get changed to this very innocuous light blue fluff? At least I fixed the text so it's black on white. More readable and all that, you know. I've learned a little about writing with accessibility on the Web.

So I've been paying a lot of attention to that daily time-stealing, friend-conversing, mainly-used-by-my-generation face thing. A lot of attention, as in, several years' worth of attention. One lonely blog post here last year. Yikes. I'm sorry! I think often about blogging, but it takes so much time and energy to write up and edit (and edit, and re-edit) multiple paragraphs here. Meanwhile, on that other platform, there are pretty pictures and greetings from friends and more pictures, and I can scroll through a hundred short pieces in an hour and feel as though I've caught up with my people.

But this blog thing has value. Sure, the posts really are short, and they're not deeply personal, but I can pretend that hundreds of kind strangers (or no one at all) will read and nod in understanding. Is there still a place for blogs any more? My, how quickly things change.

I'm blogging for work, though only occasionally. I'm supposed to be able to post book suggestions -- not reviews, exactly, because I don't think I should say that something is so awful that no one should pick it up. I wanted to do this because it's writing, and I'm a writer. (Being a writer, in this case, does not necessarily mean that anyone will choose to read my writings. But I like to write.) Once I got all trained and instructed in the professional aspects of writing for work, I did a few posts... and lost my motivation. Crickets.

Recently, however, I re-discovered my muse and became re-energized to blog again. My alter ego, my writer-side, was right there in front of me all the time. I just hadn't been looking to him for help, because this was supposed to be professional, you know, for my career, writing. This muse of mine, you see, has a sweet face, a black and pink mottled nose, and a long wagging tail. It's Polo. It's so much easier to imagine my dog's responses to things than to write my own highly edited thoughts. Polo is straightforward, honest, and only a little bit cynical about human nature. He's kind and witty. And he uses a simpler vocabulary than I can muster. (Another rule about writing for the work blog is to keep it very readable for English language learners. I don't mean to sound high-falutin' -- it just happens to be how the words fly off my fingers.)

So, I'm taking my dog to work these days, hoping he can get away with writing book stuff for me. We'll see how it goes. At least 30% of the blog posts on our website are read by fellow staff members, and everything is carefully reviewed as soon as it's published. If Polo isn't allowed on that blog, at least he can come back here to lend a paw regularly.

Thanks for checking in. I'll try to get back here more often. Mostly, I'll try to write. Somewhere. Like this guy on the side of a building at the University of Washington. Because he's been at it a long time, and he isn't finished yet.

Doggyoga (or, why Polo isn't writing)

Polo just isn't as much of a writer as Blackie. He's not even as motivated to blog as Rufus was. In case you've wondered why this is, I offer this explanation. It's worth a thousand words, if not more.

This is Polo's main indoor pursuit. Yes, he is a pro. You might say that he's "prone" to practice this fine art.

A Whale of a Nice Day

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...

The first football game of the season is only a few hours away. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, it's not too hot, and Polo just had a good run in the back yard. Except for my little virus, all is well. So, you ask, how's business at the library?

Work has been busy. Several years ago, August was such a quiet month that we did major projects -- such as checking in the entire collection of movies and music, replacing worn cases, making sure our records were up to date. Then, September would hit us hard with a sudden surge of library patrons. These days, the summer isn't that quiet, but I'm sure we'll still feel slammed once school gets going.

Although I have no trouble wasting time -- sometimes whole days -- at home, I hate not being busy at work. After all, I'm there to do something, not sit around. It's way more fun to be challenged and active there. When the phones aren't ringing and the patrons aren't needy, I get fidgety.

Come to think of it, Polo gets the same way. He can take long naps, but there comes a point in his day when he needs to do something. If no one is paying attention to him, the easiest thing is for him to pick up a shoe or sock, or look for something near the edge of a counter that he can reach. Then he holds it in his mouth and runs up and down the stairs, up and down, up and down, waiting for us to chase him and take it back.

This week, I've learned that Polo knows a new phrase: "Play ball!" When he hears these words, he is morethanready to pound some sod and chase flying spheres in the back yard.

Polo hates being bored at home. I hate being bored at work. Maybe I'll pack a tennis ball in my lunch bag tomorrow -- it's bound to be a slow day at the library.

Making Strides

Earlier this summer, I decided to "gentle" young Polo into accepting car rides as necessary means to a reward. I figured it would take many, many days, but would be worthwhile. Then I got a migraine and gave up on the whole long process.

A few days ago, I decided that I really want to get out walking again, on the trail where dogs are leashed. I love being out among the native plants and getting good exercise. But this means Polo must ride in the car.

It continues to embarrass me that I have to stoop to lift and drag and push a 70 pound furry baby into the back seat of my car. It would be different if he were old and lame, but he's clearly young and sprightly.

We've walked three times in five days, and I'm currently working on teaching him the word "walk" as a fun concept. Once we hit the trail, his ears relax, his nose goes into overdrive, and his tail curls up high with pride. He loves walks!

Too bad he hates car rides.

On one of these walks, for the very first time ever, Polo marked a spot along the trail. That must be a good thing, right? And he's learned where to watch for the feral brown bunnies that play freeze tag in the field. I think we're making progress.

Another Post by Polo

Hello. I am Polo, here to rite again. I know much more things now than when I first rite here. I been practicing. Still trying to understand "smellcheck" but Mom says it will make my words better for your reading. Silly 'puter -- I know it can't smell. Anyway.

I have been working on many many things in family and house. I very, very good at getting treats out of Kong Toy. Mom and Dad laff and laff, for five minutes. Then I win and eat good treats.

When Mom makes food in Kitchen, I pay close attention. I wanna learn how to make food. I like food very much. Mom doesn't let me see what she does up high, but I watch everything I can and remember all. One day soon, I make food. If I make enough, might even let Family have some.

I have a crate in Kitchen. I don't have to use it except when it's raining outside. Mom goes to work a lot. I wait. Crate is okay place now. I even go in without Mom leading me. I can sleep there and then Mom comes home and makes food. Yum! Soon, very soon, I do that too. Mom will be suprised. Anyway.

ManBoys aren't scary as I thought at first. But I still must bark at one who looks like Jesus picture. He's quiet and worrysome. I bark, he pets. I bark, he pets. It's okay, but I bark and then he pets. Other ManBoys are nice, except when I take their shoe toys to chew. Yum!

When I first come here, I did not know Stairs. It was hard and slow to climb bumpy leg-tangling hill from Bedroom every morning. Now, I can do Stairs much better, hardly ever trip. And, of course, Stairs help me play with Kong Toy and ball. I drop toys down, Stairs make them go fast, I chase and catch. Fun stairs.

Mom still makes me go in awful Car. Yuck. But walks are good. Here's a picture she took. We're both smiling -- Mom thinks I'm cute; I see Bird behind Mom and want to chase. Anyway. We're happy.

Polo's New Tricks

Polo pup has a few things in common with his grand-sister Blackie. He loves people food. He loves to be outside. He's good at taking naps after eating and being outside. How's that for a repertoire? Unfortunately, that's only the beginning.

I've mentioned before that Polo likes to solve problems. When he's restless but has to stay indoors, I put a dog biscuit inside his rubber Kong toy. That used to keep him occupied for quite a while, but now it only lasts about five minutes. One of his best solutions for getting the biscuit out is to drop the Kong down our stairs and let it bounce... bounce... bounce... over and over, until the treat falls out. Now I cram two biscuits inside, thereby increasing the degree of difficulty. That might earn me ten to fifteen minutes of peace.

When he's outside, Polo makes up all kinds of doggy games for himself. One of my favorites is run-back-and-forth-across-the-yard-as-fast-as-you-can. He's a white streak racing hither and yon, clomping across the deck, from one corner of the yard to another. Good thing we have such a big back yard.

Another favorite outdoor activity is digging. (Um, this is his favorite, not mine.) So far, it's a series of small holes randomly arranged around the deck. We call them ankle-breakers. I'm sure Son #3 will have a name for them when he tries to mow back there.

Yesterday, I discovered Polo's newest yard project. It's been windy here this week, and the tarp on our neighbor's broken car must have blown against our fence. You know, the chain-link fence that NOW keeps the dog in our yard? Polo has pulled about six feet of tarp into our yard. Through the fence.



I tried to get Polo to pose with his prize accomplishment, but he was camera shy. If you look closely [and if this photo stays loaded] you can see his running-away paw in the lower left corner.

Yep, this is a dog with time on his, er, paws, and a brain suited for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Too bad for us.

Polo's Biggest Issue

It's about time I wrote another post. Sorry it's been so long again. Sigh. That's life.

Anyway, I've discovered another major Polo problem. This one may trump his separation anxiety, because it's more serious, more insidious, and definitely more permanent. What is this awful flaw? He's smart. Way smart.

Remember that beautiful fence we installed last summer? Polo loves to be outside, loves to run wildly back and forth, loves to find new ways to get out of the yard and explore the neighborhood. Youngest son made some adjustments so Polo can't squeeze under the north side any more. But he's still getting out somewhere.

Polo can't be trusted to stay alone inside the house yet, either. He chews things, steals things, finds things, hides things. He's a pup.

The funniest thing I've seen him do, though, makes up for the bad stuff. He loves to solve problems. Twice now, I've watched him work and work to get a stray kibble out of his water bowl. He'll chase the floater all around the bowl, drinking and licking and changing position. It's hilarious! Even if he's hungry for his dinner, he'll wait to eat until he nabs that pesky bobbing kibble. So cute!

I've occasionally given him another little puzzle to solve. The Kong toy is designed with a hollow center, in order to hide treats inside. But it's too easy to simply drop a dog biscuit into the Kong. If Polo really needs something to apply himself to, I put bits of biscuit into the Kong and then jam his Nylabone into the hole too. Either he has to pull out the Nylabone, or he has to work the Kong so that the little treats will fall out around the bone. This is good for 20 minutes of peace and quiet for me, but adds more IQ points for the pup. Oops...

Lotsa Water, eh?

It's been raining here. More than usual, that is. The ground is over-saturated, which is part of the reason there was a septic pumper working at the library this week. Ugh.

But there are good things about rain. One of them is quiet walks. Polo drools like a St. Bernard when he has to ride in the car, but I hope I made it worthwhile today. We had a wonderful time together on the trail. He really wanted to chase the ducks, but I would only allow him to take pictures. It was good to get out and MOVE.

Here's Polo's best photo of the day:

Rescue Dog, Bad Dog?

Here we are in Week 3 or 4 with Polo the rescue pup. Sigh. At first, I didn't think of him as having been "rescued". He was mild-mannered, sweet, and only had a couple of accidents in the house. I thought this was going to be easy, bringing a six-month-old to responsible adulthood.

Maybe not so much.

Polo is still mild-mannered and sweet. He loves belly rubs, and finds ways to climb onto me and roll over so I'll massage him. He hasn't had any accidents, but consistently potties in the crate. We thought we had a very smart solution to this, and started leaving him outside when we had to go away. He's got plenty of fur to insulate him, and he loves playing outside. Putting him out should be a win-win, right?

Wrong-wrong.

Polo's biggest problem, as I see it, is separation anxiety. He hates being left alone in the crate, so he's learned to avoid me when I'm getting dressed and brushing my teeth. Now, he hates being left alone outside, so he has to find indoor places to pee AND poop in case we run away from home while he's outside doing his business. Ugh.

Poor Polo. He'll enjoy a lot of time with me this weekend, and I'm looking forward to being with him too. We have our first training class on Sunday. In the mean time, I have a couple of positive-training books on hand. I think we'll have some fun lessons in Mommy Permanence now. Polo needs to learn, little by little, that I always come back.

Poco a poco, Polito. Good dog!

Ups and Downs, Ins and Outs

The Pup is named Polo (because he looks like a cuddly little polar bear) but is also known as Apollo and Spud. He kind of told his side of the story already, so here's mine. We were dogless for about a week, and that was as much as I could stand. I had said that the timing of getting another dog would be a family decision, but I couldn't wait. I let my husband talk me into "just looking" at the local animal shelter. (He didn't have to twist my arm at all. Seven days of not being gleefully greeted at the door is a long, long time.) We went home with a sweet six-month-old golden Lab mix. The naming rights were supposed to be a matter of family vote, too, but I stole the ballot box.

Polo loves to go on walks, although he still hates meeting oncoming traffic. If puppies are "chick magnets", Polo is a general "people magnet". Since we end up doing a stop/sit for many encounters, strangers praise us for great obedience. I can't take a compliment that we don't deserve, so I inform them that he's actually scared stiff and refuses to move. This is usually followed by, "Oh, I see, he's just a pup. Inn't he just the sweetest lil thang?" Yep. So much for aerobic walking. Here we are on the trail together:


There is one nightmare that keeps coming true for the Polo pup. At odd times of the day, tall bearded men suddenly appear in our upstairs hallway. Sometimes, they poke their heads into the master bedroom when they come into the house in the wee hours. They're big, they have man-voices, and they come from out of nowhere. Of course the pup has to bark at them -- they're scary! Unfortunately, this doesn't endear him to them, and not even the Mom and Dad show appreciation for this loud announcement of Polo's surprise. Nightmares, indeed.

So far, Polo has endured two shower-baths. He takes them sitting down, but doesn't particularly enjoy them. Although most dogs don't "mess their nest", dogs who have spent time in kennels don't know better than to potty in their crates. Ick. But with all his beautiful fur, Polo needs regular baths anyway. Here's hoping he'll learn to like them.

We're enrolled in an obedience class that starts later this month. At least, I am, and I think Polo is supposed to come with me. It's good to have a walking partner again. He's still learning the greet-Mom-at-the-door thing, but he'll figure it out.

Guest Post (by potential New Correspondent)

Hi. My name is A***57 and Lady put me in front of compooter and said I must rite. I are golden lab pup, six monts old, fresh from streets and animul shelter. Here my face:

The Man and Lady brot me to home from shelter and said ManBoys would have to approve me to join famly. ManBoys not all crazy about me. Lady says name "Rufus" and makes cry. Lady slept on couch all night with leash on her foot. I go potty out by tree.

Lady made me go in Car today. We went "walk" on trail. She showed me footprint. Think it susqatch monster, but Lady say racoon. See for self:

I never rite before. I never walk with Lady before. I never have to wonder about ManBoy approval before. I very skinny but have buetiful fur. Lady secretly calling me Polo because I look like polo bear. Nap now.

One Less Dog, But So Many Stories

We finally took Blackie to her final veterinary appointment yesterday. Well, not "we", because I did not go on this trip. That was something I couldn't do. Mark and Jon took her, and she was as cheerful as ever. We will all miss her so very much; she was a wonderful, wonderful dog.

But she had her days...

Her favorite activity used to be to sneak through a barely-open door and go streaking out of the yard to the neighbor's horse pasture. Guess what was in that horse pasture? Blackie's favorite scent -- eu de peeeeeeew! She would roll and roll in fresh horse poo, check out the neighborhood a bit, and come trotting home in all her glory. She hated baths.

One time when the boys were much younger, they left a lovely pizza cooling on the kitchen table while they ran outside to check out a friend's new bike. When they came in ten minutes later, the pizza was gone. The whole thing. Gone. She didn't mind a little indigestion.

When I had mono a few years ago, Blackie loved having me at home, taking a couple of naps a day with her on my bed. She was always patient and gentle, and was old enough to enjoy all the naps we could get. Finally, my schedule matched hers! She hoped I was turning into a dog.

We are going to miss her terribly, but Rufus is here to help take the edge off our grief. In fact, when Andy saw Ruf at the pet store four and a half years ago, it struck me that it might help us to have another dog in the house because Blackie was getting old. Not that Rufus would ever replace her, but he could help our hearts. After all, that's what Blackie did for us many years ago. Our first dog, Pepper, was struck by a car and taken from us too quickly. Although Mark and I thought we should take time to heal, a friend encouraged us to go ahead and get a dog immediately. We knew we were a "dog family" now, so why wait?

Blackie was something over two years old, and had been at the pound for almost a week. The staff recognized her sweet temperament, and tied a bandanna around her neck as well as posting a hand-written note on her cage. They kept hoping someone would adopt her, so they delayed her timetable well beyond the normal stay.

When we first brought her home, she wouldn't eat. I think she went at least two full days without taking a kibble. But she was gentle, she seemed to like us, and she was fully housebroken. We stuck with her, she stuck with us, and we all got to like each other.

On one of Blackie's neighborhood excursions, she met someone who didn't think she was "all that." Although we didn't notice anything at first, after a few days there was an awful smell and a bad abscess on the back of her neck. The vet said she had been bitten, and they had to do extensive work to get rid of the infection. We brought her back home with a tube in her neck and instructions to irrigate the wound twice a day. Blackie disliked the antibiotic pills, but she really hated those irrigation sessions. But, being Blackie, she came into the bathroom with me every morning and evening and let me take care of things. That experience was the seal on our relationship. Although we were already quite fond of each other, those days of careful nursing care allowed our mutual trust to deepen.

In the early days of my novel, Blackie would climb up on the bed with me while I wrote on my laptop. Her quiet spirit encouraged me to sit there for at least an hour and write. After all, it would have been rude to get up when she was settled so comfortably! It was easy to imagine her being a wise muse, and that's how this blog got its name. If she could talk, if I knew what was happening in her dog-versations with Rufus, surely there would be glimmers of insight into the human perspective.

I wrote to some friends yesterday that I can't believe that dogs have eternal souls, so I don't expect to see Blackie in heaven. However, the God who created such diverse, affectionate creatures wouldn't just abandon His wonderful work. Somehow, I think He's got a place in His plan for dogs -- and horses and aardvarks and skunks and all the rest. And someday, I'll get to enjoy these creatures in a new way.


Sorry if I made you cry. It was nice to remember dear Blackie, and Pepper, and Frisca. Good doggas all. And now there's Rufus. Oh, my. Oh, my.

Who Says You Can't Shoot a Moving Target?

Son #2 leaves for Japan tomorrow, so I forced the boys to gather in the back yard for a thirty-second photo shoot. Somebody (me) had the bright idea to include the dogs, but Blackie refused to go to the way-back part of the yard and then we used up Rufus's patience. So, here we go with stiffly-posed boys and one dog at a time. Such is life.


And, just to show relative heights, one standing-up-without-a-dog photo.