#1 NYT bestselling author Linda Lael Miller


The Beagle Speaks

My name is Sadie, and I am Mom’s beagle. Since she’s busy writing the last few chapters of “Deadly Deceptions”, her second Mojo book, (“Deadly Gamble” being the first, and available now), I decided to fill in for her on the blog. This is no small challenge, considering I don’t have opposable thumbs, but here goes.

My mom travels a lot, and my sister Bernice, the Yorkie, and I miss her a whole lot when she’s away. When she comes home, whether she’s been gone for a week or an hour, we always throw a big party. I get so excited, I can’t contain my joy, and often run wildly around the house for a few minutes, with my ears tucked all funny, just to use up some glad energy. The cats are happy to see her, too, but they don’t want anybody to know, so they act subtle. The truth is, the four of us are spoiled rotten, and we’ve never known anything but love in our whole lives.

Mom was writing “The Last Chance Cafe” when I came along. She and my two-legged sister, Wendy, happened to visit a mall in Scottsdale, Arizona, and there I was, galloping around in a pet store window. Mom had planned to buy two Yorkies and take them with her everywhere she went, like Amy Tan does, (I’m not sure who Amy Tan is, exactly, but Mom thinks she’s great) but she fell in love with me and the rest is history. So much for the take-them-everywhere plan–I wouldn’t fit under any airline seat, and Mom wouldn’t put me in the cargo hold. Anyhow, I’d want to run up and down the aisle and kiss everybody, and share their inflight snacks. Bernice is way too nervous to travel. So we stay home, where we are safe and comfortable and very well cared for. It gives us plenty of time to plan the welcome-home parties.

Today, Mom would probably do things differently. She’d get rescue dogs. But I’m awfully glad she chose us the way she did, and she is, too. After all, we already existed, and we needed homes, too.

Cha Cha and Jitterbug, the cats, were feed-store kitties, so that almost counts as rescued. They cost $10 each and were cuddled together in the back of a wire crate, cool, calm and collected. Mom had gone in to buy stuff for the horses. The nice lady at the feed store said Mom could only have them if she promised they could live in the house, not the barn. (Like Mom would keep cats in the barn. If they wouldn’t squash us and poop everywhere, the horses would probably live in the house, too.) They got all their shots and came to live with us, and let me tell you, it was funny, because they thought Bernice was their mama and she went around with little spiky tufts sticking out all over her neck because the kittens tried to nurse. Mom said it meant they’d left their mother too soon, and she was sad, but we all love them and now they’re big cats. But they still think Bernice is their mama, and they head-butt her all the time. She just sighs and walks away. Sometimes, she and Cha Cha sit side by side, and Cha Cha wraps her big, fluffy tail around Bernice, like a boa.

Yep. Mom loves us a whole lot. What’s not to love?

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