My name is Andrew Joyce and I write books for a living. Lisa has been kind enough to allow me a little space on her blog to promote my new novel RESOLUTION: Huck Finn’s Greatest Adventure. I think it’s a good book, but what do I know? Anyway, I’m kinda shy about tooting my own horn. So I think I’ll turn things over to my dog Danny—Danny the Dog. He always has an attitude and usually does not speak highly of me. But please understand that we co-exist as the old Soviet Union and the United States once co-existed. We tolerate each other. So without further ado, here’s Danny.
Andrew begged me to come along with him so that I could help him out. For a person that works with words for a living, he has very little to say in real life. He wants me to tout his book for him, but I don’t think I will. Instead, I think I’ll tell you about our latest adventure. We’re always having adventures. I like to write about them and what I write is 100% true.
Ahoy all you landlubbers, It’s me Danny the Dog. I live on a boat with my human who I’ve already alluded to. Now, I do know for a fact that mostly humans read The Empresses blog, but my writing is usually geared to my fellow canines. Having said that, I’ll tell what I’ve been up to the last couple of days.
Andrew, and I get along for the most part. And as far as roommates go, he’s not too bad. However, as most of my dog friends will attest to, humans can be trying at times. For instance, take the situation concerning our bed. Well, on boats they’re called bunks. Don’t ask me why, it’s just something a silly human made up a long time ago.
On boats, you don’t have a regular mattress. One sleeps on foam rubber and there lies the rub between Andrew and I. I’m sure all my canine friends know where I’m going with this. But for my human readers, I’ll explain. There are very few things more enticing then foam rubber to a dog. It’s like dog catnip, if that makes any sense.
Allow me to digress for a moment and set the scene for you. I like to sleep outside on the deck most nights—unless it’s raining. But I spend my days indoors in the air conditioning. So every morning after our walk, I go into the boat and jump up on the bed, or bunk if you will. Then I start to paw at the sheets until I uncover a corner and then I’ll rub my snoot on the foam. Man, does that feel good. Of course, Andrew freaks out, but what else can you expect from a human. He puts the sheets back in place and calls me a few choice names, but it’s worth it. And the funny thing is I only like to do it in the morning. The rest of the day, I get on and off the bed and don’t even think of that luscious foam rubber lying just under the sheets. Now on to bicycles, or to be more precise let’s talk about Andrew and the one and only time he took me along while he rode his bike.
Andrew is not much for physical exertion; in fact, he’s down right indolent. But this morning as he was getting ready to ride to the other side of the marina (I told you he was lazy), I started barking at him to take me along. Usually when I do that, he leaves the bike and we walk. However, this morning he took me by the leash and off we went, him on the bike and me trotting alongside.
Now I know why he was hesitant to take me with him when he’s on the bike. I crisscrossed in front of him many times and every time he had to put on the brakes so he wouldn’t run into me. And when I wasn’t doing that, I’d stop to smell an especially intoxication scent, almost pulling him off the bike. When we got home, he told me that was my last time accompanying him while he rode the bicycle. But that’s okay. It was just a training exercise; I caused him all that grief on purpose and he responded as I knew he would. I much prefer walking, I can take my time sniffing, and every once in a while I turn up a treasure, like an old chicken bone. Andrew won’t let me eat them, but I get a crunch or two in before he takes them away.
We just got back from visiting some friends on the far side of the marina—we walked. It pained Andrew to have to walk all of one hundred yards, but I had a blast. I found a rib bone and had most of it eaten before Andrew got it away from me.
That’s about it for now. I must hurry home. My favorite television show is about to start—old reruns of Lassie in black and white. They don’t make shows like that anymore.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot—go out and buy Andrew’s book and make an old man happy.
It is 1896 in the Yukon Territory, Canada. The largest gold strike in the annals of human history has just been made; however, word of the discovery will not reach the outside world for another year.
By happenstance, a fifty-nine-year-old Huck Finn and his lady friend, Molly Lee, are on hand, but they are not interested in gold. They have come to that neck of the woods seeking adventure.
Someone should have warned them, “Be careful what you wish for.”
When disaster strikes, they volunteer to save the day by making an arduous six hundred mile journey by dog sled in the depths of a Yukon winter. They race against time, nature, and man. With the temperature hovering around seventy degrees below zero, they must fight every day if they are to live to see the next.
On the frozen trail, they are put upon by murderers, hungry wolves, and hostile Indians, but those adversaries have nothing over the weather. At seventy below, your spit freezes a foot from your face. Your cheeks burn—your skin turns purple and black as it dies from the cold. You are in constant danger of losing fingers and toes to frostbite.
It is into this world that Huck and Molly race.
They cannot stop. They cannot turn back. They can only go on. Lives hang in the balance—including theirs.
This is Andrew again. On behalf of Danny and myself, I would like to thank Lisa for having us over. It’s been a real pleasure.
Amazon
Smashwords
Barnes & Noble
iTunes
Kobo
Andrew’s Blog
Andrew on Facebook
Resolution: Huck Finn’s Greatest Adventure
http://andrewjoyce76.com
Thank you, Lisa.
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