Hey, everybody! This is Noah. (I’m the adorably handsome dog in the picture).
I’m hijacking my mom’s blog today, because, quite frankly, enough is enough. I’m used to getting all the attention around here, seriously, and lately? Well, my mom wrote this book. And it’s getting AAAAALLLLLL the attention.
That’s my Mom. That’s her book. Look how happy she is. What is that about? It’s not like a bone. Or leftover meatloaf (I’m not really allowed that). It’s not even close to peeing on a tree. Wait . . . I’ll be right back . . .
I mean, what’s the deal with this dumb book?
When their tragic past begins to resurface, can he help her remember the things she can’t?
Set on the island of Nantucket, The Things We Knew paints a picture of a family that is far from perfect. The Carlisle siblings have long abandoned the home they grew up in, their lives now a paradox to their idyllic childhood memories. As their father’s health declines and the family debt rises, they each return to the island to assist their youngest sister, Lynette, and must all come to terms with the history that connects them, confront the memories that haunt them, and question all the things they thought they knew.
Mom thinks this is an adorable picture of me. She thinks it looks like I’m checking out her book with great interest. Actually, I’m wondering what paper tastes like. (Don’t tell). Because I don’t really get it. She’s been talking to me about this story for a looooong time. (Yes, she talks to me. I find it best to wag my tail and nod) A lot of the time she just doesn’t make sense. Supper Time, Walk, Swim . . . those words make sense. But when she starts yammering about plot holes and deadlines and wanting to jump from tall buildings, well, there’s an itch I gotta scratch.
“Are you even listening to me?” I hear that a lot.
And whatever these deadline things are? I hate them. I will devour them ferociously in one bite if I ever find out what they are. Because they glue Mom to her computer, (like she’s not already always on it), and she basically doesn’t move. For days. Then the mumbling starts. And sometimes she cries. And . . . a couple times she says some words I don’t think she’s supposed to say. But who am I to judge? I pee on trees and chase pigeons. I would probably pee on this book if I had the chance.
See this picture? Oh, you will. She’s posting it pretty much all over the internet. I even have my own hashtag. #noahbestdogever
Well, what can I say? It fits.
Let’s be honest, I’m freaking adorable, so I can’t blame her. (It’s actually a much better picture than the one of her by herself, if I do say so). But a dog’s gotta have some limits, right? And this??
WHAT. IS. THIS. MOM??!!
I feel so used.
Do all you writer people act the same way or is my mom just weird? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know she loves me. And that’s probably understating it. She has some human children who pretend to love me when she’s around, but I’ve heard them talking when they think I’m not listening, and word on the street is that if we were all on a sinking ship and there was only room for Mom and one more person on the lifeboat, she would choose me over them. Did I mention my stinking adorability factor? Probs has something to do with it. The humans are cute, but let’s face it . . . I win.
So here’s the thing, really. I love my Mom. Not as much as she loves me, but I do love her and I would bark a few times in her defense. She lets me up on the bed when Dad gets up in the morning. And she feeds me. And . . . sigh . . . she used to play with me and go for walks with me a lot more, but why beat a dead horse? But this book thing is stressing her out. It oozes from her and makes me sad. I don’t like stress. Something about release day being right around the corner and this and that and blah, blah, blah. So, I thought I’d get you all to help my mom calm the flip down about all this, tell her to take some deep breaths, and maybe take me for a walk or a swim, because that’d be good for both of us.
Tell my mom it’s all gonna be okay, she doesn’t need to stress, everybody will love her book, even though I don’t, but to each his own, right? And if they don’t, well so what? It’s not the end of the world. She still has me.
You can even promise to buy her book on July 12th, if you want. Hey, whatever it takes.
So thanks for listening. I’ll be back with an update and hopefully a saner, less stressed Mom to tell you about.
I hear her next book has Border Collies in it. I’m all over that one.