I trained Tawny, my Canine Companions for Independence dog, in over thirty commands before she went off to professional training. But after five months of the professional training program, which lasts for only six months, Tawny decided she didn’t want to be an assistance dog and was returned to me (referred to as a “release puppy”). But the one command I taught her, which was not part of her list of commands to acquire, was to get the newspaper in the morning.

Now I live in Palos Verdes, California, which is a small peninsula that extends out into the Pacific Ocean. The peninsula was basically formed by a tectonic uplift, resulting in an underwater mountain, the top of which elevates approximately 1,400 feet above the surface of the ocean. Now mountains are usually steep, and so is Palos Verdes. So getting the newspaper in the morning was quite a chore at my age, having to walk down the driveway and then back up. So, I trained Tawny to do the morning ritual for me. I open the gate, and she walks out and sits. Then I give the command, “Paper … get!” and off she goes. She runs down the driveway, grabs the newspaper, and then hightails it back up the driveway, into the garage, and then up the stairs into the kitchen. When I finally get there, I say, “Give” and she releases the paper into my hand. For her efforts, I give her a Glucosamine Chondroitin pill (for dogs), which she loves.

Often, people are taking early morning walks when Tawny gets the paper. They inevitably say something like, “Look at that. That dog is getting the newspaper. Boy, do I wish Fido would do that. Then I wouldn’t have to go down and up our driveway every morning.”

Now it took only three times to train Tawny to perform the command before she executed it perfectly on her own. I often wondered why she was so excited to get the newspaper — besides getting her Glucosamine pill — and then it hit me; she also loves the written word. Therefore, I believe she’s the epitome of an author’s dog.

Hear, hear to Tawny!

Well I did it. After discussing the matter with my editor, I’ve decided my next novel will not be in the suspense genre. The novel in the publication queue was Hostile Takeover, but my editor said it might be a good move to venture outside of suspense and show my talents in another genre. So how does romance sound?

That’s right, I wrote a love story titled Without You. It’s about two performing arts school students — a young man who is a pianist, and a young lady who can sing — who meet and fall in love. That’s all I’ll tell you about the story. If it interests you, then you’ll have to wait until it’s published, probably by next month, and then read it. I will tell you one thing, though, I enjoyed writing the story more than any other I’ve written. So I guess I have a romantic side after all.

I will return to suspense novels and finally release Hostile Takeover, which has been on the sidelines for well over a year. But that’s how the publishing business goes. When your editor says do this, you do it, unless you’re a very successful and popular author and have the clout to say “No”, which I don’t. But when she said that releasing a love story would demonstrate my ability to expand beyond suspense novels and show versatility, I agreed. Mainly because I really, really like the story.

For those of you who don’t know, in my early years I was an artist before turning to theatre arts and becoming an actor. I then went back to school and got a degree in accounting. I was employed by a national accounting firm, received a CPA license, and after many years left to form my own company. My suspense novels are all based on my experiences from the business world. So I enjoyed returning to my artistic roots, even though I branched into an arena that I knew little about: music. But I thought the backdrop of music would be more enduring to readers than a lonely artist or thespian. But who knows, we’ll see.

So if you’re interested, stay tuned and I will announce when the novel is released. If you purchase the book, I hope when you read it, it will hit an emotional spot in you as it did with me when I was writing it.

I’m heading to the Galapagos Islands at the end of this week, to see if Charles Darwin knew what he was talking about. If I don’t have a follow-up posting outlining any contradictions, then assume everything Charles said is true.

Now, of course, I’m joking. My scientific achievements and qualifications pale in comparison to Darwin’s, since I have absolutely none at all!

The remarkable thing about the Galapagos Island, and what Darwin was to discover, were certain species are endemic to the islands. The concept of Darwin’s Theory of Evolution is partly based on his findings during his five-year trip aboard the HMS Beagle from 1831 to 1836, which included a stop at the Galapagos. Everyone I’ve ever talked to who has visited the Galapagos has enjoyed the trip. I’m certainly looking forward to the adventure.

I will also be visiting Machu Picchu — Land of the Incas. My concern, though, are the thousands of stone steps that need to be climbed in order to get picturesque views of the ruins.

So off I go, and I sure hope Darwin was right so I don’t have to refute his theory.

When I received my jury duty request this year I had a slight problem. My wife was out of town and there was no one other than me to take care of Tawny. When you raise and train a service dog, one of the governing rules is you never leave them alone at home for more than a couple of hours at a time.

So off I went to City Hall with Tawny in tow. I was part of the first panel of thirty-five jurors selected in the jury room to go to an assigned courtroom where we all sat and listened to the specifics of the case. And then the first twelve potential jurors were selected, and guess what, I was one of them. So up I went with Tawny close at my side, half expecting the judge to ask why I had a dog with me, which I would explain, figuring that she would then reluctantly release me. What she asked, however, was, “Would you like to sit at the end of the last row so your dog will be more comfortable? And by the way, what is your dog’s name?” I knew right then that having Tawny with me wasn’t going to get me released from jury duty.

As things turned out, I was asked all sorts of questions by the judge and the two counsels as a means of determining if I would be a qualified juror. Having Tawny at my side never, and I mean never, came up as an issue. Juror after juror was released for all sorts of reasons, but having a companion dog didn’t seem to be an issue at all. At the end of the day, all thirty-five jurors in the panel had been interviewed with twelve being selected, and I was juror number twelve. There was one problem, though. There was no alternate juror.

The judge decided to allow the jury to stand as is, without an alternate, saying, “I don’t want to take the time to pull a second panel tomorrow to find one alternate. So none of you had better get sick and not show up at court. It won’t be a long trail, so hang in there with me so we can all get through this.”

A fellow juror raised her hand and the judge acknowledged her. The juror stood and then announced, “Tawny could be our alternate.”

There was general laughter with an overall acceptance that Tawny would be designated as the alternate juror, and, I might add, did a wonderful job. Although, if we’d been required to call on her as an alternate, I doubt if she would have been able to contribute much in deliberation, since she paid little if any attention during the trial because she slept most of the time. But everyone enjoyed having her there, especially the judge and two counsels, who personally came up to me after the trail and said how much they enjoyed having her in court.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE

Sunset at Avila Beach, California

One of my daughters asked me once how I came up with the different characters I had in my books, and where I got their names? “Do you just look in the telephone book?” she asked.

Well, most of my characters are derived from the story itself. In other words, the plot creates the characters. There was one instance, however, that a character came from an encounter I had with an actual person. I was sitting in an airport terminal, waiting for my plane, when I saw this younger man walking by himself and talking out loud. He was good-looking and dressed nicely, but his actions surprised me. Then I figured out he was talking on his cell phone using a small wire mic with an earbud, the first I’d ever seen. I must mention that this was when cell phones were early in development. My cell phone at the time was permanently attached to my car. Anyway, I found this person interesting as I continued to discreetly watch him. He appeared to be doing business over the phone, and had a very assured attitude. For some reason, I locked his image away in my mind.

Eight years later, I was writing my first novel, The Price of Admission, and the plot required an aggressive, power hungry young executive that would play a major role in the story. Bingo, the image of the man came back to me and instantly I had my character, with all the assuredness and air of confidence this young man had projected during a simple cell phone call.

But hold on, what would this character’s name be? Remember, this would be a leading character and, therefore, needed a name that would fit his personality and role in the novel. I actually didn’t have to ponder too long, and contrary to my daughter’s suspicions, I didn’t go to the telephone book. His name came to mind the first time I started writing about him — Travis Manning. It sounded right to me and fit the personality I wanted him to have. By the way, my daughter also loved the name and thought it fit him perfectly.

To this day, I still enjoy recalling the times when I was writing scenes that included Travis Manning, and how he tried to control a much older, more seasoned executive character in the book named Brad Paxton.

FYI: Paxton won!

I remember saying that, or something close, to my wife, Melayne, when she told me she would be gone for the evening . Now the baby was my oldest daughter, Shannon, who was probably three months old at the time. I figured I’d take her for a walk around the local college, you know, to expose her to higher education and maybe get her competitive juices flowing. Then I’d take her out for dinner so people could see how cute she was and what a good father I was, able to handle a baby all by myself.

Now I should explain, this was the first time I’d ever been alone with a baby, not just my own baby, but any baby. Once again, I figured this would be a piece of cake. She’d probably sleep most of the time, so what could possibly go wrong? So I packed up the minivan. That’s right, a minivan, the consummate vehicle for a family that includes a baby and a dog. A few years prior, I lived alone, drove a Porsche and had a Harley Davidson motorcycle — and there was no dog. But gone where those days.

So, anyway, off I went, with a smile on my face and brimming with confidence. Well, that confidence lasted about four minutes. I suddenly became aware of a horrible stench coming from the backseat. I pulled over and checked it out, finding the problem came from my sweet little Shannon sitting in the car seat. And that’s when it hit me, and I mean hit me hard!

I believe I must explain. I grew up when fathers worked and mothers stayed home with the children. This particular occurrence happened in 1987, when this prevailing concept was still in practice. The key ingredient was that men didn’t change diapers. I never had or ever imagined doing so, knowing that Melayne would take care of that issue. “But guess what?” my mind said. “Melayne isn’t here. So have at it, big guy.”

I immediately returned home, grabbed the little stinker from the back seat and headed into the house. Now what we had done was convert a nice bar into a changing table, keeping in place the mirrors, shelves to hold bottles of booze, overhead cocktail glass racks, and a sink with running water. The only thing remaining to identify its previous life were wine glasses still hanging in the racks.

I laid Shannon down on the changing pad, not so sure of what I would uncover. I had an idea, but still proceeded cautiously. As it turned out, it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. But then I recalled Melayne telling me about discarding the old diaper, using baby wipes and powder, how to put on a new diaper, etc. To tell the truth, I’d never really paid much attention, though. But there I was, trying to figure out which container held baby wipes, what did baby powder come in, and where in the heck did Melayne keep the new diapers?

Fortunately, I conquered all challenges, although it took me more than ten minutes to complete the task. However, no sooner had I picked Shannon up than another whiff announced … round two! To indicate how quickly I learn, though, round two only took a couple of minutes.

Considering that changing a diaper was once so foreign to me, I can now proudly say that everything involved in being a parent is … the greatest gift of all!