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OLD COOT: A short story about a remarkable therapy dog

4/30/2016

5 Comments

 
Dedicated to all my faithful readers, and to all you dog lovers all over the world. Originally published to critical acclaim on Page & Spine November 1, 2013.

OLD COOT
    My Golden Retriever Kadie looks at me with an excitement that feels like a static charge in the air. We’re going to see Johnny again, and that’s all she cares about.
     Her wagging tail tells the tale, if I may be so bold.
     We like going to see Johnny, and all his friends too, the ones he keeps forgetting and calling by different names. Johnny never remembers me, but he always smiles and chuckles when he sees Kadie.
     She never seems to mind Johnny calling her boy names.
     “Go see Johnny now?” I ask, and she whines.
     Her soulful eyes tell me she thinks, “Duh, Daddy. Hurry!”
     But then we can’t read our dogs’ minds, can we? We can only watch them play and interact, and marvel at how it sometimes seems they see so much more than we do. At least about what’s important.
     I can’t think about the appointments I need to make, or the ones I canceled. If I want to see Kadie scamper across the ceiling and bounce off the walls, all I have to do is deny her this visit.
     All I really have to do is hang the car keys back on their hook and sit down and take off my shoes, and she’ll go ballistic.
     She’s ready to go, her furry tail thumping against the kitchen chair by the door to the garage as if it could pound the furniture into kindling. Pant teetering between a whine and a whimper. Eyes wide and ears perked up as if asking me what I’m waiting for, and demanding an immediate response.

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     I laugh and jangle the keys, and she barks at me.
     Her special ruby red bandana with the white-lettered Prancing Paws Therapy Dogs logo looks like a cape about to grant her the power of flight. If her paws were wings, I’d have to rent a helicopter to catch her. Or maybe find a butterfly for her to chase until I can sling the leash around her neck and tether her to the Earth.
     We go for a ride.
     When we arrive at the Golden Days Retirement Home, there are plenty of parking spaces. Johnny doesn’t have or need a car anymore, and neither do his neighbors and friends. Most of them couldn’t renew their driver’s licenses if they tried. They don’t get a lot of visitors either, so there’s plenty of room for me, Kadie, and our other friends in pairs like us.
     I pull into a parking spot, and Kadie’s dangling tongue dribbles drool on my shoulder.
     “You goofy girl, we’re here,” I say, laughing, and push her cold wet snout away from me. Her panting would steam up the windows if they weren’t already down.
     The crisp mid-March breeze heralds the promise of spring in its lively mélange of fragrances, adding a sweet taste of blooming life to the bitter reminder of that which must pass to make way for the new. At least that’s how I picture it. My nose is nowhere near Kadie’s equal. Her nostrils vibrate, and she adds a plaintive whine to her exuberance.
     If a dog can spontaneously combust, Kadie is about to.
     Must go see Johnny.
     It just enters my head, as if she thought it at me with a power beyond human comprehension.
     “Okay, okay!” I say. I laugh again, although I know I won’t be laughing soon. Kadie is always so happy before, during, and after one of these visits. I do okay with the before and during parts. Maybe later I can smuggle a chuckle out of the tears, when she snuggles up beside me on the couch and I tell her how she was such a good girl today.

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     If Kadie and her furry friends can close their eyes and sleep after something like this, then we should be able to as well.
     I hop out and clip her leash on. She gives me an urgent whimper, and I call her out. As we head for the front entrance to join the others, I think of my mother and father. They died when I was a teenager, so I can’t know the anguish involved in consigning a parent to a retirement home. But I have friends who do.
     Some of those friends display lips that still smile, but eyes that bleed.
     Susan and Duke are waiting outside for the rest of the furry therapists and their human tagalongs. Susan’s short blond hair complements Duke’s bristly yellow Labrador fur.
     “Hey, Kadie!” Susan says. Duke and Kadie prance and wag tails, but don’t approach each other or pull on their leashes. Though they want to play, they know Duke came to see Amelia, and Kadie came to see Johnny. They’ll end up sharing some of the love, but they’re here to see special friends.
     Susan and I chat for a few minutes about important stuff that doesn’t matter while we wait for the others. They join us shortly, and the canines show their infinite tolerance for people pleasantries as we greet each other. Then we enter the building together, therapy dogs walking their humans.
     We the two-legged are superfluous. Those of us who glean a snatch of the big picture know it. Those who don’t are proud of their pets as if they’re a personal accomplishment, or an accessory.
     Some of us burn with an understanding of the difference.

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   The antiseptic foyer surely has a bite that offends our four-legged friends, but they tolerate it with a patience and exhilaration we could all stand to learn. With hopeful smiles on our faces and happy wagging tails carrying our friends forward, we enter the greeting room.
      The staff keeps the place toasty year-round. I can already feel sweat beading on my chest, and am glad I’m wearing a T-shirt and Bermuda shorts. After a few frolicking moments, old friends pair up. Susan smiles at me from across the room as Duke focuses on Amelia, and I do my best to return the smile as Kadie tugs me toward Johnny.
     “Cooter!” Johnny says. His arthritic hand reaches down to stroke the fur behind Kadie’s ear as she pushes her neck against the armrest of his wheelchair. Johnny’s lips crinkle in a toothless smile, a glimmer of sunshine on a day full of black clouds, and he chuckles. He looks at me with cataract-riddled eyes glowing.
     “I knew my good boy would come back. I just knew it.”
     “Yes, sir,” I say. I don’t have a clue what to say. I never do. “Cooter loves his buddy.”
     Johnny cackles, his claw-shaped hand spreading out and his fingers regaining an agility they must have known in bygone days as he ruffles Kadie’s golden fur. She whines and licks his fingers, her tail thumping the floor.
    The restraint she shows by not jumping into his lap is impressive, at least to me.
     “You know, son,” Johnny says as he looks off at the fluorescent lights spanning the big room. He doesn’t recognize me, and introducing myself again is pointless.
     “Yes, sir?” I ask, a deliberate prompt.
     He laughs, and Kadie pushes her nose into his curled fingers.
     “Oh, yeah. Me and my Cooter go huntin’ all the time,” Johnny says for the fifth or fifteenth time. “He never misses a duck or quail, never mangles ’em. Brings ’em up to me just like a snooty-falooty waiter servin’ a fine dinner in a fancy restaurant, he does.”

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     I’ve heard the line before, but give him the requisite laugh and response. “No kiddin’?”
     Johnny cackles and starts gasping for breath, and his nurse applies the oxygen mask as I hold a flat waving palm out at Kadie. She whines but relaxes, her trembling haunches obediently plopping against the floor.
     After a minute or so, Johnny laughs again and pets her. “Yeah, Cooter’s a good boy, ain’t he?”
     “Yes, sir, he sure is,” I say, and nod slowly at Kadie. Her rolling eyes tell me she doesn’t need the prod, and she rests her snout against Johnny’s withered leg.
    “Yeah, me and my buddy, we go huntin’ every season.” Johnny leans his head back as he strokes Kadie’s fur. He smiles and looks down at Kadie, who looks up at Johnny as if he is the beginning and end of her universe.
     How do we earn that trusting love?
    Kadie licks his fingers again, but Johnny’s eyes close, and plastered on his wrinkled lips is a grin I’d like to find and display for all my fellow humans to see.
     The nurse smiles and says, “Thank you,” and I nod at her. If I could speak, I’d say all the things I don’t have the words for. She rolls Johnny’s wheelchair back down the long hallway. I hear him chuckle again as Kadie strains at her leash, trying to follow.
     The session is over. I call Kadie to heel, but she resists, which is unusual for such a normally well-behaved girl. She gives me eyes that beg for things I can’t describe and pulls the leash taut, aiming her snout at Johnny and his nurse.
     When she whines again and tugs me down the hall, I follow, unnecessary human that I am. I’m only interfering with Kadie’s purpose today, the reason she wears a cape that can make her fly.

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     In Johnny’s room, a couple of nurses settle him in his bed. Kadie and I stand in the doorway, and the nurses give me what I think are dubious eyes at best. After a moment they nod, inviting me and Kadie into the room.
     With his eyes closed, Johnny sighs and reaches a hand down between the rails lining his bed, and I let Kadie push up against them. She rolls her head into his fingers, understanding something we should all know.
     Johnny chuckles again. Kadie looks back at me and whines. I wave my “wait” hand at her as she lifts her forelegs onto the supporting rails beside the bed.
     I approach her and lift her up, much to the consternation of the wide-eyed nurses.
     “Just like when she was a little bitty puppy, holding her in my hands,” I say softly. Her answering whimper tells me all I need to know without benefit of words.
     A machine bleeps quietly beside me and Kadie as I lay her on the bed. She snuggles up beside Johnny and pushes her snout against his wrinkled chin. She doesn’t need me to waggle the “gentle, easy” hand. She knows what she’s doing. I have no idea, of course, being human.
    Johnny cackles in his sleep, in a field deep in the woods somewhere, and he rubs Kadie’s ears as his dream-voice murmurs.
     “Yeah, old Coot’s a good boy.”
     Kadie only gives me eyes every thirty seconds or so to confirm something I’ll never understand. While the nurses watch and my heart becomes a lump in my throat I can never swallow, the bleeping sound diminishes, then becomes a constant whine, signaling an end of worldly things for a weary old hunter.

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    I barely remember the hugs and kind words the teary-eyed nurses gave me, or their fur-ruffling and cooing at Kadie when they told her she was such a good girl today. I have no idea how Kadie and I made it back down the hall, out the doors, and into the bright sunshine of a green and gloriously blooming new spring day. I think Kadie took me on that journey. I remember it mostly as a blur.
     Maybe I just got something stuck in my eyes.
     Back home, after we have dinner and I try to evade the story screaming to be told in my mind, we settle on the couch together. I envision all the dreams that may have floated around in Johnny’s head before he embarked on the next great adventure in the world beyond ours. With an indecipherable snuffle, Kadie pushes her snout against my thigh, begging again for something I don’t have. I ruffle her fur, and place my lips on her head behind her quivering ears.
     The words I say are meaningless, but she snuggles closer when I utter them.
     “Old Coot’s a good boy.”

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Your comments and thoughts are heartily welcomed and encouraged!

As Holly Jolly, my veteran professional Therapy Dog who inspired this story wishes for us all in her
motto and creed:

"Live your lives with wind-in-fur."

5 Comments

5 Quick Tips on Grammar & Word Usage

4/10/2016

4 Comments

 
5 Quick Tips on Grammar & Word Usage
(because somebody has to say it)

Please understand that I couldn't stop myself from posting this. I tried, but my recalcitrant muse took over my body and mind during the creation of this blog post, as my protagonist David Flint does in my new supernatural thriller MARIONETTES, coming May 31, 2016, and I was helpless.

Nobody likes a know-it-all. Seriously. They're as annoying as a handful of burrs in your sock on a ten-mile hike, as aggravating as a persistent hemorrhoid.

But if you're even remotely as proud and confident as I am, when you come across someone who's apparently compelled to constantly correct you and others when you say something incorrectly or do something wrong, your initial reaction is likely to bitch-slap them backhanded, as mine is also, rather than a more appropriate reaction such as saying something like,
"Thank you for clarifying that, jackass."

We mean well. Really, we do. Or at least I do.
I can't speak for the rest of the jackasses.


When people use these words and grammar properly, it makes me and Holly Jolly happy.

Here is how we look when people get it right:

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This post is meant to be helpful and assist, and is not in any way intended to be criticism, or condescending or sanctimonious. Especially not condescending. Please take it with the proverbial grain of salt, and in the spirit in which it is intended.
So let's have fun with it.

Ready... set... go!

1. Your vs. You're
This one's easy, yet so many folks get them confused.

your is a possessive adjective that refers to something that belongs to or relates to the person being addressed. It NEVER means "you are": Your pants are on fire.

you're is ALWAYS a contraction of "you are." There is never a case in which it functions as a possessive adjective, as "your" does: You're going to have to extinguish your pants, or you're going to become a flaming human torch.


If you switch and misuse these two words, Holly Jolly and I may send these two girls after you in the dead of night.
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You do NOT want us sending these two girls after you. Trust me.
2. Their, They're, and There
I've noticed that even professionally, traditionally published books sometimes get these wrong. Let's clear it up once and for all.

their is a plural possessive adjective, just as your is (usually) a singular possessive adjective, along with his, her, and its (we'll get to that last one shortly): Their house is on fire.

they're is ALWAYS a contraction of "they are". There is never a case in which it functions as anything else: They're going to have to extinguish their house fire, or else they're going to be living on the streets or in a motel like a bunch of crack whores.

there is an adverb (or sometimes a pronoun or interjection) used to indicate a place, either one that has already been mentioned or is understood, or one indicated by pointing or looking:
I'm not going over there, because their house is on fire.

A GRAMMAR NOTE: the singular noun or adjective always gets the plural verb, and the plural noun or adjective always gets the singular verb, i.e., in the case of the (oddly and inexplicably) plural "pants" above, your gets the verb are and their gets the verb is, for just two examples among many. However, if the usage of "your" is singular, such as "your burning house", then it gets the plural verb "is".

Here is Holly Jolly's non-stern, non-judgmental admonishing look she gives to people when they get these three words wrong:

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She won't bite. She never bites. But she may sic Bitey-dog on you.
3. Its vs. It's
Another simple distinction, yet even many professional writers and editors occasionally get them mixed up... most often probably an oversight rather than an outright mistake. Let's fix this error once and for all, too (not "to", but we'll save that one for another day's lesson).

its is always a possessive adjective, showing that something belongs to or relates to something. NEVER use a possessive apostrophe for this usage, as you would with "John's fiery pants" or "Jane's burning house," just two examples among many: Their house has lost its former charm ever since it burned down.

it's is always a contraction of "it is". It's never used as a possessive adjective. Not ever. Really: Their property is now a vacant lot because it's nothing but charred ruins now.

Please don't use "it's" as an improper contraction of "it has" or "it was", or else Holly will have to punish you accordingly. I have absolutely no idea how "it'd" EVER got accepted as a proper contraction of "it would" or "it had". So please don't ask me about that one.

Even the Cookie Monster sometimes gets bent out of shape when people use these two words wrong.

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Contrary to popular misconception, the Cookie Monster will NEVER become the Veggie Monster; he will never permanently forswear cookies.
4. Supposedly vs. Supposably
This one, despite the fact that some people still get it wrong, is ridiculously simple.

When I was a wee lad, there was no such word as supposably in the dictionaries. Even now, my spell checker here still puts that squiggly red line under it because it doesn't recognize it as a real word. Sometime since my youth (please don't ask how long that has been), the word gurus have added it... likely because so many people misused it in place of the correct "supposedly" that they finally threw their hands up in frustration and surrender, and reluctantly stuck it in there.

However, the correct and proper English usage was, is, and will likely always be "supposedly": They supposedly had no choice but to live on the streets like crack whores after their house burned down.

This is how I feel and react when I hear people mistakenly say "supposably":

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Please don't make me bite off poor Baby Ted's widdle head.
5. Definitely vs. Defiantly
Simply put, these are two entirely different words with completely different meanings. The only time they have anything in common is when someone is definitely defiant.

definitely is an adverb that means certainly; finally and unchangeably. It has nothing to do with defiance: People who mix up these two words are definitely going to catch their pants on fire or get their houses burned down.

defiantly is an adverb that means aggressively challenging or deliberately disobedient. It has nothing to do with being certain or definite: Kerry and Holly Jolly defiantly posted this article to dissuade people from incorrectly using these words. Misusing these words definitely sets their heads on fire.

Holly Jolly (a veteran professional Therapy Dog) and I participate in two local library-sponsored R.E.A.D. programs (Reading Education Assistance Dogs) in which we go to the library and sit in the children's section, and kids come up to us, read to Holly, and learn how to properly approach unfamiliar dogs. We've noticed that even some preschool girls who read well beyond a 3rd or 4th grade level sometimes react like this when they see people misuse these two radically different words:

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You don't want to be responsible for scaring little girls, now do you? DO YOU?

We're having fun with this, so let's add an important Bonus Tip! Misuse of these two really sets my pants on fire.

Bonus Tip #6:
Regardless vs. Irregardless

regardless is an adverb that means in spite of everything, or without regard to something, and is the only true correct usage of these two: I posted this article regardless of the fact that my pants, head, and house were on fire.

irregardless is one of those non-word words that makes me grind the enamel off my molars and want to set my house on fire every time I hear it. Under "irregardless," my dictionary actually states "(nonstandard) see regardless".

Since regardless means "without regard to" and the prefix "irr" means "the absence of", "without", or "not" (as in irresponsible means not responsible), then irregardless is actually a double negative, meaning "without without regard to," or, because it's a double negative, "with regard to" or "regarding." That's messed up big time when you think about it, isn't it?

I'm convinced that irregardless was added to the dictionary by pompous sanctimonious arrogant professors, scholars, and academicians who mistakenly believe that saying "irregardless" makes them sound intellectually superior and like a know-it-all smartypants. They have no clue that when their students and understudies hear them say it that it makes them want to vomit and commit hara-kiri. And set their pants and house on fire.

Here's my word usage sentence for these two:
Regardless of the fact that hearing someone say irregardless makes my head explode, the next time I hear some pompous jackass say irregardless, I'm going to email them the link to this blog post and let their own smartypants catch fire.

Here is what hearing someone say "irregardless" transforms me into:

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Even X-Gen folks know about the ancient horror classic movie "Trilogy of Terror." You don't want to turn me into this nasty little guy, do you?

Okay, I feel better now. Holly and I had fun with it. She corrected my typos and grammatical errors. She's awesome that way. Thanks, my furry friend and Snoopy-dancing partner.

Holly and I hope you had fun with it, too!

For those of you who get these words wrong, no worries.

We still like you! A lot.*

(* Not "alot", which is not a word. "Allot" is, but its meaning is entirely different. We'll save that one for another post another day when we feel like setting something else ablaze.)

In fact, whether you get these words right or not, Holly is still a very happy girl, and I'm a happy guy. Holly even wants to play with you (and me) regardless of all our silly faults.
See? Who can resist this?

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Do you have your own grammar and word usage pet peeves?
Feel free to share them in the Comments section below.
We're happy to hear from you, and add yours to our list!

Happy reading to you all, and as Holly's motto prescribes,
"Live your lives with wind-in-fur."

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MARIONETTES Cover Reveal!

4/7/2016

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It's time for the
MARIONETTES Cover Reveal!

Kerry Alan Denney aka The Reality Bender
and Juju Mojo Publications
are proud to present

MARIONETTES

A Supernatural Thriller
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Cover copyright 2016 © Nicolle Brown Designs
Publication date: May 31, 2016
Pre-order your ebook copy on Amazon HERE now! Only $3.99 – auto-delivered to your Kindle May 31
Paperback edition available May 31
Also available on Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords May 31


Read a FREE Sneak Preview of the first 5 chapters NOW by clicking HERE


What would you do if you could control the thoughts and actions of others, making them your own personal puppets? How far would you go before the power started controlling you?
 
Marionettes illuminates the greatest achievements of the human spirit and the darkest corridors of our minds, and answers the age-old question: What are the consequences of absolute power?


MARIONETTES Synopsis:

Resuscitated after he drowns and dies in a flood, David Flint discovers he has returned from the other side with an uncanny ability: He can “jump” into people’s bodies and minds, and control their thoughts and actions.
 
David believes it's a gift, and wants to use it to help people. Then four members of a ruthless drug ring savagely attack his fiancée and leave her in a coma, and David tries to use his new power to destroy the whole ring. But the ringleader, a voodoo priest known as the Zombie Master, is a formidable man with a deadly secret: He has the same incredible ability as David.
 
When the two human marionette masters clash in a brutal bloody showdown, using the ring’s members as their puppets, David discovers he’s battling for much more than his life—he’s fighting to rid the world of an evil human abomination.

Attention horror, sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal, and supernatural Reviewers & Bloggers:

Interested in reviewing Marionettes on your site? Contact Kerry using the Contact Form below or write him at kerrydenney(AT)gmail(DOT)com with links to your sites and your request for a
Read-4-Review copy!

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Paperback spread: Front Cover, Spine, & Back Cover

Advance Rave Reviews for MARIONETTES:

“Kerry Alan Denney proves once again he is the master of showing us the good—and the evil—in the human race. This is his best one yet!” – Deborah D. Moore, bestselling author of The Journal natural disaster series
 
“Whether you're a fan of mystery, suspense, or sci-fi makes no difference. This book shines with elements of all. From the first line, My whole life changed after I drowned and died in the flood, to the last word, this story will hold you in its grip. Beautifully written. A must read!” – Lynda Fitzgerald, critically acclaimed author of the Sunshine State LIVE mystery series
 
“Kerry Alan Denney presents readers with a wholly original take on the ‘Lazarus’ sub-genre—the topic of what happens if someone is raised from the dead. In our protagonist, David, we see a complex man who is broken, lost, and mourning. He is given a power that can offer either salvation or a means for revenge. His captivating journey is as much about self-discovery as it is about practicing his newfound talent. As challenges mount, so does the suspense. The last fifty pages fly by with extreme action and insight. Such a cleverly balanced book, Marionettes is not to be missed!” – Michael Schutz, author of Blood Vengeance and the forthcoming Edging
 
“Kerry Alan Denney continues to amaze with his unique and intriguing books. I've never read a book of his I didn't like and Marionettes will not disappoint! I loved falling into this book; I felt like I was right there with the characters, living it with them. If you read only one book this year, make sure it's Marionettes!” – Veronica Smith of Horror Geeks, author of Chalk Outline


Want a signed paperback copy to add to your favorites collection?
Write Kerry using the Contact Form below to get your personal signed copy for the unprecedented low price of only $7.99 + $3 S&H (Continental United States ONLY; ask Kerry about rates outside the U.S.A.)
That’s less than the regular Amazon price –
plus you get a signed copy!
(Pay-Pal accepted; Available after the May 31 release date – please allow one week for processing and shipping)

Submit
This blog post has been officially approved by
Holly Jolly the professional Therapy Dog

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Special thanks, cheers, and kudos to Nicolle "Nikki" Brown of Nicolle Brown Designs for the spectacular cover.

We heartily welcome your thoughts and opinions in the comments section below. Happy reading and live your lives with wind-in-fur!

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