Life With Arlo: Writer's Edition

I recently started writing a new book. Lately, (and with the exception of The Way Back), the stuff I've written has revolved around my very favorite characters: Sebastian, Bert, and Lucy. However, I've had this idea to write something that takes place during the same time period as Kick It One More Time and The Way Back (meaning it will span five years) and star some new characters. Eventually, the book I'm working on now will have a "sequel" that connects to both The Way Back and Come and Go So Quickly, but that's down the road a bit.

Anyway... I digress.

Over the weekend, I spent a good chunk of time exploring this new town (Callensburg, MD) and these new characters (the Kincaid family). Arlo wanted to "help."

If I'm being completely honest, I prefer when Arlo "helps" from outside. Fortunately, this is his preferred location during the weekends. Generally speaking, when Arlo wishes to go out, he uses his nose to incessantly ring the bell that hangs over the knob of the back door. No matter how quickly I move to accommodate him, it is never fast enough, and when I eventually reach him (a span of what can sometimes be ten grueling seconds after he's rung the bell), he undoubtedly greets me by standing on his hind legs and pawing-but-not-touching the door. The boy yearns to be taller than what he is; I'm honestly surprised he's not bipedal at this point in time.

At night, after spending the majority of the day monitoring the behavior of squirrels in the backyard, Arlo typically announces his desire to return to the indoors by pounding both of his front paws against the door's exterior and barking until someone (e.g., Hannah) invites him inside. Even though he has a dish of water outside, he prefers the ambiance of the kitchen. Here, surrounded by an abundance of artwork and furniture, he fully submerges his snout and unruly beard to thoroughly gobble the water in the same way he might gobble down a Thanksgiving meal. He literally eats the water... and then he drips all over the kitchen, leaving a trail from his bowl all the way to the living room carpet.

An afternoon of squirrel watching has never been enough to tire my most terrible terrier, so it should come as no surprise that his energy level is intense once he ventures into the living room. This past weekend, as I sat on the couch, Arlo found a small Kong and joined me, inching ever closer until he was eventually pawing my laptop and resting his sopping beard on my lap. Feigning an innocence that fooled me not at all, he released his grip on the Kong, allowing it to tumble onto the pillow beside me. Then he "helped" me with my manuscript by typing "as;'fdo" and other insightful phrases until I picked up the Kong and tossed it into the kitchen.

Oh, the joy that a short game of fetch is capable of ensuring!

Joy for Arlo, anyway... Once the game was finished, I deleted my pup's suggestions from my new novel, set my laptop aside, dried both my pants and my keyboard, and then vacuumed the couch for the second time that day.

And that, friends, is how my Airedale assists me in writing my books. To say he's an asset is truly an overstatement... but he does make for some quality blog material.❤️