In the bio of my first book, I mentioned that I got a lot
of writing done with a warm puppy asleep on my foot. How a sleeping puppy can
help a writer develop her craft is almost as much a mystery as those I write. So
I’d like to take this opportunity to explain.
As many people know, my family has been raising Seeing
Eye® puppies to become guides for the blind for over twenty years. We are
currently raising our thirteenth pup.
We started shortly after I found a copy of the novel FOLLOW
MY LEADER, by James B. Garfield, in one of the local libraries. I had read it as a child and tried to become
a puppy raiser at that time. I sent a
letter to The Seeing Eye® asking them how I could get involved and they replied
saying I could not do it because I lived in Brooklyn. I would have to live in
New Jersey. I figured that would never happen.
But it did, many years later, when I was an adult. And
when my daughter read the book at about the same age as I had, she asked if we
could raise a puppy. My husband was
totally against it, we were cat people, and it was out of the question. We finally convinced him that it would be
just for one year. That was in 1993.
Raising a puppy starts with the delivery of a
seven-week-old ball of fur. The anticipation for each of our puppies was
similar—excitement, acknowledgement of a big responsibility, and in the
beginning, lack of sleep. The warmth and sweetness of a soft fresh puppy is
unbeatable and the cuteness factor is sky high. Cuddling ensues when the puppy
is delivered, but also training. The more
we followed the rules, the easier it became. We learned that when the puppy
wakes up, we were to take her out, after she ate, we were to take her out, and
when she had been playing for a while it was a really good idea to take her
out. It sounds tedious but it doesn’t last forever, and it cuts way down on the
paper towel and stain remover bills.
Because I was not officially working, (volunteering in
two school libraries, puppeteering in KIDS ON THE BLOCK disability/difference
awareness performances, carpooling and taking care of my mother didn’t count as
work) I was the one home with the puppy most of the time. I learned a few
things, one of which was that if I was sitting at my computer, the puppy would
curl up on my feet. If I wanted to get up, the puppy would wake up, need to go
out, be played with or walked, or fed, etc. So I stayed in my chair and wrote
book after book.
I have found that when I’m stuck, taking a walk with the
puppy is a useful thing. We walk along, practicing crossing streets without
running into them unheedingly, and discuss plot points. The puppy rarely disagrees, but, on the other
hand, cannot take notes, so I’m obligated to remember all the epiphanies by
myself, rush home and write them down. When I self-published the last book in
the Wally Morris Vengeance series last year because I couldn’t stand the series
not having an ending, we chose the name TWELVE PUPPIES PUBLISHING as the name
of our publishing company. The puppy who was #12 is on the back of the book.
Each of our puppies has had a different personality and
sense, or lack thereof, of humor. Two didn’t make the program and lived with us
for their whole lives. One of them became a therapy dog. Another of the dogs we
raised who had a career change became a bomb sniffing officer for ATF. When people
ask how we can give them up after raising them for a year and falling in love
with them, which we always do, we say it is sometimes harder than other times.
But one thing about raising Labrador Retrievers, at least in our experience, is
that they will go with anyone, and I think that makes the separation they feel
easier. To me, that’s more important than our feelings. The departing dogs will
fall in love with their trainers, then they will fall in love with their
forever people, who will not have to leave them at home all day while working as
I now do.
Luckily I only work outside of the house three days a
week, and while I’m home writing there is still a warm puppy on my foot, even
as I write this blog.
