Ongoing Poetry Contributor, John Herlihy, Presents The Age of Time--Sitting--Thou Has Made Me--The Identity of Me!

 

The Age of Time

by John Herlihy

 

Time makes all seem young,

As if things have just begun.

Time makes everything old ,

Like the story already told.

 

The dawn arrives oh so young, 

Of specks of light and mist spun. 

Then the dawn turns also old ,

Killed off by the day gone bold.

 

Seconds bleed into the minute,

A single breath oh so minute.

The minute as a four-leaf clover,

But soon the minute oh so over.

 

The minutes bleed into the hour,

Timely moments of special power.

But soon enough the hour is gone,

Takes its leave having sung its song.

 

That brings us to the endless day,

Forever young, having its own way.

Until the sunset rings its silent bell,

The day is over with nothing to tell.

 

Days not enough until months arrive,

A month has some heft, seeming alive.

Until months swallowed by the year,

Still, time never sheds a single tear.

 

Years roll onward making a decade,

All bundled together, never weighed.

As the decades pass, we feel the age,

Leading us on resolutely into old age.

 

The century seems old but time is not,

The trees has rings and subject to rot.

An aging presence in an ageless world,

One’s flag now folded, no longer furled.

 

The moral: time itself has no fixed age,

Seconds do the work turning the page.

-----

Copyright © John Herlihy

Sitting

by John Herlihy

 

There's an interesting thing about sitting

Not the sitting itself, that's not interesting

But the different places where people sit

And how they feel while they are sitting

All the places where people end up sitting

Even when there were no good places to sit

 

Sitting alone, waiting for friends to meet

Sitting quietly, sitting on the edge of a seat

Sitting under a tree in the coolness of shade

Sitting amid buds and blooms in a quiet glade

 

Sitting on a cliff edge, sitting by the seashore

Sitting on the horizon and wishing for more

Sitting in contemplation, sitting in abject fear

Sitting in love with the loved one sitting near

 

Sitting in rapturous wonder, sitting in despair

Sitting in expectation, sitting in silent prayer

Sitting in terror, in curiosity, in wonder

Sitting in a tropical storm listening to thunder

 

Sitting at the end of day with a stick broom

Listening to notes on a piano sitting in a room

Sitting in a dank prison cell as a crazed fanatic

Sitting feeling all lonesome in a cottage attic

 

Sitting  on a tree stump, sitting at a class desk

Sitting snug on a tree branch beside a bird’s nest

Sitting on the street curb, sitting in a church nave

Sitting in the shadows of a cemetery by a grave 

There now, I see a seat, let me sit myself down

My weary bones need a rest, with no one around

As I quietly sit, I hear the sweet notes of a piano

Soothing notes, lilting notes, ever so pianissimo 

- - - - -

Copyright © John Herlihy

Thou Hast Made Me

by John Herlihy

 

Thou hath made me strong and mighty,

As a mountain impervious to the wind.

 

That hath made me fluid and flexible,

A fountain whose virtues never pretend.

 

This fragile heart of mine never rests still,

Gently indeed lovingly beats by God’s will.

 

My voice speaks eloquently as magic flute,

Until a hush in the air, the silence absolute.

 

Thou hath made my mind and of my body,

As a vessel here on earth that is temporal.

 

Thou hath made my soul as a spirit eternal,

Guided by grace through journeys diurnal.

 

This frail vessel empties with exhaled breath,

Only to be filled again with inhaled breath.

 

I whisper entreaty as my head on pillows lie,

To remember God all my days until the day I die.

- - - - 

Copyright © John Herlihy

 The Identity of Me

by John Herlihy

________________________________________

 

What are the signposts that make up the totality of me?  

What are the symbolic signs that make up the identity of me?

 

Imprinted on my skin, the divine birthmark of me—  

signifying craftsmanship, authenticity, the humanity of me.

 

Imprinted within my body, the DNA profile of me—  

the red hair, the freckles, the gender of me.

 

Imprinted on my finger lies the fingerprint of me—  

the identity I go by, encapsulated in the name of me.

 

Imprinted on my face is the personality of me—  

the furrowed brow, the smiles, the frowns of me.

 

Imprinted within my eye, the retinal scan of me—  

the vision, perspective, the windows to the soul of me.

 

Imprinted within my feet, the very footprint of me—  

the pathway, the journey, the tracks left behind of me.

 

Imprinted on my mind lies the mind-print of me—  

a ladder of reason and logic to sort the puzzle of me.

 

Imprinted on my psyche lies the imprimatur of me—  

the moral reckoning, the sanction, the very seal of me.

 

Imprinted within my intellect, the hot wax stamp of me—  

the authority, the ownership, the legal validity of me.

 

Imprinted on my soul lies the soul-print of me—  

a daguerreotype displaying the shadow and light of me.

 

Imprinted within my design, the ciphered monogram of me—  

combining personal initials, essential branding, lineage of me.

 

Imprinted within my narrative lies the watermark of me—  

in my hard‑bound volumes of books, the history, the legacy of me.

 

Imprinted on my voice lies the very music of me—  

all the rhythms, the currents, the melodic flow tide of me.

 

Imprinted on all my actions lies the copyright of me—  

the responsibility, the ownership, the right to be me.

 

Imprinted on my silhouette, the aura of me—  

the energy field, the overall vibe, the living being of me.

 

Imprinted within my light, the shade and shadow of me—  

the hidden, the darker aspects, the unseen aspects of me.

 

Imprinted on my consciousness, the open window of me—  

the thoughts, sensations, emotions, the visible iceberg of me.

 

Imprinted on my unconscious, the closed door of me—  

desire, memory, instincts, the invisible iceberg of me.

 

Imprinted on my spirit, the very breath of me—  

the ebb and flow, the waxing and waning of me.

 

These are the signatures that make up you and me—  

the thoughts, effort, identity, the very life of you and me.

—  

Copyright © John Herlihy 

 Thank you, John for 

again sharing your

Lovely and Thought-Provoking Words

Gabby

THE Book for NOW - Plausible Liars by Lin Wilder - Gabby Takes A Second Look! Personal Thoughts Incited by Novel...

My original review of this important book is available right now for those who have not previously read my thoughts... But when I learned that a second edition was out, I decided to read once again... and give Gabby a chance to explore the book with new eyes wide open... 

First of all, the addition of a book club section is fantastic and should be considered as a wonderful way by which we can talk about major issues while at the same time, joining together to love and support our neighbors who have gone through so much turmoil during the last few years...

ALL Neighbors...

THE SECOND EDITION

When the head of the Chicago LGBTQIA+ Book Club created a chapter-by-chapter Reader’s Guide, was so good, I decided a second edition of the book was warranted.

A Dr. Lindsey McCall Medical Mystery — Book 5

What happens when a doctor and an investigative journalist find themselves caught in a federal indictment?

In Plausible Liars, Dr. Lindsey McCall and Kate Townsend face a high-stakes legal battle where medical ethics, investigative reporting, and difficult questions of truth collide.

For readers who enjoy medical mysteries, courtroom suspense, and stories that challenge easy answers, discover the novel that has earned reader attention and award recognition. 

First, I'd like to explore the title... It's an important title, and, really, could be used as a stand alone phrase describing people, today, who are running our country in a totally unwarranted manner. 

Plausible is a word that rolls off your tongue--just like the lies that can slip out easily for many, but are also of major significance when done on purpose... Don't you think?

Plausible is an adjective that means seemingly reasonable, probable, or worthy of belief, even if it has not been proven true.  According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, something that is plausible appears fair, sensible, or logical on the surface, though it can sometimes be deceptively so. 

Key Meanings & Uses: Believable or Realistic: An explanation, story, or theory that sounds like it could be true. (Example: "She gave a plausible excuse for being late."), while Superficially Persuasive (with a catch) sometimes describes an argument or person that sounds convincing, even if there is room for doubt or hidden deceit. (Example: a smooth, plausible speaker)

It is not my intent to spotlight the ongoing interaction about the political scene now taking place and which we will be voting on within a few days... Rather, by spotlighting the reality of today's world, we must also recognize exactly how plausible liars have, perhaps, always, acted. Either as we listen to possibly realistic lies OR, more importantly to those who superficially use plausible lies as tools... Personally? I find at this point in our nation, there may not be as much of a difference as we think...

Consider this story from my own life... Years ago I went into job burnout. My doctor said that I had to choose between my job or my life. I chose life...and walked off the job after receiving a medical leave of absence. I knew I needed to talk to somebody and called my pastor. He and his wife came to my home where I was crying without being able to stop. I cried out, pray for me and they did... But as we talked, the pastor soon also talked to me about getting medical help. At that time, in order to gain prescriptive care I also had to visit a psychologist who could prescribed medication... At that time, the psychologist went through what I might need to do--I had already done all she suggested about on-the-job actions. I saw her, as required, to gain ongoing support...

At the same time, my older sister called and said to get to church to the altar to be blessed... She also sent her son who I ignored as he pounded on my doors. I have no idea what he could possibly have done and I felt was totally inappropriate for her to have sent him...

So why do I bring this up? Right now? After many years of reading and studying--and especially seeing the evangelical christians support a conman, I began to evaluate just how religion, itself, had really been a tool often used to persuade individuals into a blind trust that may or may not have been appropriate. In my case, attempting to shut out my obvious medical needs where my mind was out of control, could not have been appropriate. Yet, my family immediately expected me to go to the altar... Think about it, if you would, it was like my brain was split in two. One part thinking logically that I needed help. One part totally helpless and needing guidance and immediate support. 

In other words, if we are so blinded by religion that it is seen as the only way that God can help us, we are ignoring the fact that God is Love and has given the gifts of science/medicine to support all of His children... Thus, our need and love for our neighbors...

Lin Wilder, in exploring the issue of transgender activities drew a similar parallel where a teacher who had studied under one professor who had provided plausible lies had totally acceptable those lies that children, no matter what age, should be encouraged in their fantasies, even of wanting to be like his sister... And she immediately acted to not only support that brief thought of a child, but continued to act, continuously, in support of implementing what her professor had taught, and which she had fully absorbed--Without Question! Encourage a child of whatever age, to immediately respond to a need for sex change.

At the same time, however, another individual came to see the horror of the child when that teacher attempted to celebrate what that child had expressed just once of actually becoming his sister, giving him a dress and changing his clothes... And it was the woman who stopped that action who was criticized... Even at the end, after the child had changed into his earlier clothes, the teacher continued to assume that she had done the right thing in encouraging a very young child with such a major issue!

When we speak Truth as we know it, I have learned that it may or may not be true. At this stage of my life, I have no problem in differentiating. I have read many different religious experiences of people as a book reviewer. That never meant that I would automatically accept what was said as Truth, but merely willing to read one person's experience and acknowledge it... We Must Work to Know What is True, even if we doubt what our own family tells us... Or what a teacher has told us, or even what sounded right, but...still...there is doubt? You must learn for yourself what is True and that includes about your religious training...

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when it came time to die, to discover that I had not lived.”

The first excerpt I highlighted on my second read was in the first chapter. I felt a response to this brief quote from one of the characters. Why would we NOT want to learn more than what was known after the first day in a garden of eden? And yet, many have become so insulated and so believing in a book that was written thousands of years ago, that no further information is of value? I find that incomprehensible... First of all, if we believe God is alive Today, then we must be ignoring His life by sticking purely to something said at a distant time, don't you think? Some continues to be Truth; some was intended for a season that is perhaps past...

“We’re friends. That’s all.” Had anyone ever called me their friend? Then I thought about how weird she is. Maybe even more bizarre than me, if that’s even possible, and I wondered why I felt so comfortable around her. “Are you happy?” I had just taken a big bite of my hamburger when Morgan asked that question. As usual, I didn’t know what to say to her. So, I put up my hand and made a show of chewing and wiping my mouth. She had barely touched her food. That’s why she’s so skinny. She doesn’t eat, unlike me, who eats continuously. Finally, I emptied my mouth, but still didn’t know how to answer. Are you happy? What kind of question is that to ask someone? “Joey, it’s a simple question. There are only two possible answers.” I picked up a French fry, but Morgan put her hand on mine and fixed me with those eyes that seemed to penetrate my soul. “I don’t know, Morgan. I don’t have any idea what happiness is,” I said. Then, right there in front of her and everyone else, I started to cry. But Morgan ignored my blubbering. “A few weeks ago,” she said, “I heard Michelle asking when you would get your top done. You said this month, in a week or so, is that right?” I nodded. Her emotionless reaction was helping me get control of myself. “Joey, is this your idea or someone else’s?” She can’t know about him. I’ve never said anything to her—or to anyone else—about him! “What do you mean?” I asked. Morgan just sat there, studying me. She acted as if she could have waited for hours. But as I sat there looking back at her, I smiled. “Can I tell you a secret, Morgan? Something I am happy about?” Morgan looked surprised but nodded. I told her I was off the testosterone and had started taking estrogen, thanks to her friend, Dr. McCall.

Do you miss talking to a special friend? I do... It seems that with all this technology now available, we rarely actually spend personal time with others... Our nation has lost its ability to take time to spend talking. Even our doctors are restricted time-wise and don't take the time to learn more than what is necessary to give us a pill... I know. Simply because I've lived through the evolution of that traumatic change and find myself resenting what has occurred. 

When you feel like communication is not really two-way, you become more attuned to seeing the results of the loss of the warmth of spending time with somebody with whom you are sympatico--that you can say anything and not feel like you are tied forever to what was said at one time which you later might not think of as a good idea... This book has a special character who has both limitations of communicating and yet has a wonderful ability to see through what is, possibly, not true, or that we may not even realize that we are unsure about how we feel... When that relationship develops between a young person and an adult, there is sometimes a subtle deference that can occur where somebody's opinions--their truth--can be extremely misleading... When planning to sign up to vote after moving to a different state, I was asked what I would register as. I said Independent, knowing that I wanted to look at the individual rather than affiliation to a party. The individual to whom I was responding immediately said, "If you're a Christian, you must vote republican..."

I had thought I was close to that individual. Since then there have been a number of times when I've questioned how I thought of her as my friend. You see, each of us is extremely complex. We think deeply, yet most of our thoughts belong only to ourselves. When we are suddenly thrown into a situation where somebody else's opinion is so different, how we receive it is often based upon the relationship between the two. If the adult is also a teacher, we have a tendency to accept what we hear as truth...

But what happens when two different adults present two different "truths" as they see it? Obviously the third individual would either be confused, decide which one is correct, or take the time to research the issue and arrive at your own conclusions... This becomes even more complicated if the difference of opinions/truth are presented as facts that you previously didn't know about. This book has several specific issues that are addressed which ultimately led to legal action. I realized that this could happen with many different topics, not just controversial issues, but those, simply, which had never been taught except from one perspective...

Take the issue of slavery, also ending in legal actions and war... And still the issue continues to be manipulated even today... Just One Issue, that affects millions of people! I met my first Black girlfriend in the 7th grade. We remained friends through graduation of high school. That is truth--my truth of having a good Black friend. Nobody can manipulate my mind about what is being done right now under DEI to hurt/destroy the lives of non-white people because of race. Truth can indeed be confirmed from our own truths...

Have you been presumed guilty for a crime you know is not true?

“Rich, are you sure?” Lindsey asked. “It feels like all I’ve done lately is drop in for a visit and then take off again.” Her husband began to hum, then sway with the girls from side to side, and then the three of them began to sing the following song. I’ve seen a lot of places I’ve been around the world I’ve seen some pretty faces Been with some beautiful girls But after all I’ve witnessed one thing still amazes me Just like a miracle you have to see to believe ’Cause God blessed Texas with his own hand Brought down angels from the promised land Gave ’em a place where they could dance If you wanna see heaven, brother, here’s your chance I’ve been sent to spread the message God blessed Texas First he lit sunshine Then he made the waters deep Then he gave us moonlight For all the world to see Well everybody knows that the Lord works in mysterious ways He took a rest then on the very next day God blessed Texas with his own hand ….

 

“Kate, sorry to bother you. Are you somewhere you can talk?” “Sure, Jeff, just give me a few minutes. Can I call you back in five?” Kate’s editor, Jeff Simmons, sounded very different from the cheery man she’d talked to two days earlier when he welcomed her back to Texas. It was only 7:00 p.m., but Lucinda and the boys were already down for the night, and Kate didn’t want to wake them with her conversation. At Kate’s enthusiastic agreement, Steve had accepted an invitation to dinner with the dean of the medical school and a few other chairs of medical departments. They had narrowed the list of potential houses to three—two if Steve nixed one after sleeping on it—and planned to return to Palo Alto on Sunday morning after placing an offer. Kate was pleased with their progress but was tired. None of them slept well because of the almost constant sirens of ambulances and police around the medical center. Furthermore, although the three-bedroom suite had felt spacious when they arrived, it felt cramped for the five of them after nearly a week. Even JH, who was usually phlegmatic, was getting irritable. Kate pocketed her key and walked outside into the warm evening. “Hi, Jeff, what’s up? You sound—” “Worried? The wolves are circling, Kate. Jaworski’s using all of his leverage to keep you out of the local Texas media circuses. And mostly, he’s managing to hold them off. But he’s heard rumors that the Northern California Federal Court impaneled a grand jury to indict you and Lindsey McCall on a conspiracy to commit a federal hate crime against the American transgendered community and unintentionally murdering a teen named Joey Carmichael. Jaworski’s worried. He doesn’t hold any heft with the US Justice Department. “I’d guess you know about Lindsey’s involvement with detransitioning a transgender female-to-male teen at Cal Poly. He’s dead. Because of your articles about Lindsey’s wrongful conviction for her mother’s death four years ago, they think they have enough to indict both of you for conspiracy.” John Jaworski was a senior partner of Fulbright and Jaworski, one of the leading law firms in Texas. He was also President of the Board of Trustees for the Houston Tribune, wielding enormous power in the state. Jeff said, “Someone at the Transgender Law Center has the Attorney General’s ear.” Kate’s mind reeled. She thought That poor kid died? Lindsey’s being accused of causing it? This is happening so fast! But she said, “I’ll need to look up the definition of a federal hate crime.” Jeff had worked with Kate for fifteen years and thought he knew her well. However, she occasionally managed to stop him short with her unflappability, like now. Kate didn’t even sound surprised. Shaking his head at her calm reply, Jeff said, “I’ve got it right here. Are you ready? “Fire away.” “‘In violation of 18 USC 249: prohibiting willfully causing bodily injury to another because of actual or perceived race, color, religion, national origin, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, or disability.’ Co-Prosecutors are from the Transgender Law Center, the ACLU, and the Southern Poverty Law Center. Jaworski’s source says there may be more because this isn’t just hot, it’s sizzling.” 

In the book, two professional women have lived lives, in good faith working to help others. While at the same time, others who disagreed with their opinions, chose to act on their perceptions of what truth was actually happening... Have people all over the world had this happen on an ongoing basis, and, especially, when some are acting for personal gain or power... Just how do we see a past AND a future if we are unable to talk and give out opinions so that we come to at least an understanding of what is right or wrong related to any given issue?

Instead, they understood what this could do to Rich’s hard-won battle for serenity. The consequences of his intense need to “fix” those who misused their power could be very bad indeed. Following his confession, Rich regarded the priest. “How do I deserve a woman like that? She’s the one in handcuffs, and yet she’s worried about me?” “None of us deserves anything, good, Rich, but what we do deserve,” the priest paused to finger the crucifix he wore under his collar, “he already bore. And yet he rains down his mercy and goodness on us daily.” He looked at the exhausted man before him. “If you don’t get some sleep, you’ll be no good to anyone.” 

“Behold, I am sending you out in the midst of wolves. Be ye therefore as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves.” Father John’s words fell like a blessing on the group. As well as a tacit “Go for it...”

Both sides were on the lookout for their ideal juror. The US attorney and his prosecution team sought younger, single, areligious, college-educated people. Race was immaterial. The defense wanted people who were married with kids, blue-collar, and Christian, believing that race and ethnicity were irrelevant in this case.

Are we so tied to politics that we have become so predictable?

Are we so predictable that lawyers think of us, first, as an individual within a certain race, financial status, or education, that we do not have the ability to form our own opinions? As we read the book as written, readers may find their emotions being instantly involved in one way or another. Important for me was that the several involved characters were in turmoil and needed guidance... Are we past that point in the United States? Are we unable to have the sympathy and, possibly, empathy, to place ourselves into a given situation and evaluate our own beliefs and/or moral code? This book may help you find that ability to look beyond your own personal opinions and seek truth in various ways, rather than just from those who have vested interests in controlling lives based upon a desire for power, recognition as an expert, or "relevant" in whatever today's world might attempt to seduce you with?

“Each human being is created in the Creator’s image and likeness. When he breathes life into us, he also breathes knowledge of his law: our conscience. Uniquely among all God’s creatures, we have an intellect and a will to develop that conscience.” The volume of his voice dropped. “His great gift to humanity: free will, Zach. Either we choose to follow the laws we know to be true—or declare ourselves gods.”

He took her trembling hand. “Child, don’t be sorry. Never apologize for using one of the best cleansing agents our gracious Lord has given. Tears.”

...Or do you see two women who stuck their necks out in completely unrelated situations instead? Two women who could have easily decided to do nothing, fully aware of the risks they were taking in this politicized climate where so little can be discussed but so much condemned?”

Do they know how precarious their freedom is?

This is a special time period for the nation--indeed, for the world...

I believe each of us has heard the voice of God as from the Pope, other politicians, religious leaders, teachers, medical personnel...

We watched the fear, pain and suffering to children who do not understand

Mostly, because we adults, also do not understand...

But we have Hope... Just as the Two women in Plausible Liars

knew that what they were doing was what was being guided by God...

Now is our time...

We face the loss of democracy

We've already watched murders in the streets

Inciting wars and death across the world...

I believe it is a time when God is depending upon His followers

of any and all religions, to fight hate, violence, and greed...

Simply because I know He Loves Us ALL

Gabby

Gnarly's Back! Award-Winning Author, Lauren Carr, Presents Best in Murder - A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 15!

“Does Gnarly ever really get over anything?” “He doesn’t get over things.” Mac glanced back at the dog staring at them. “He gets even.”

"I guess it should not be surprising that I didn’t know Robin Spencer had passed. I must confess I don’t read mysteries. I prefer real literature. Important books, you understand.”

Julian Blackwood’s face turned beet red with fury as he watched all hope of yet another grand prize slip through his fingers. It was plain for all to see that there was no hope of any ribbons or trophies based on this fiasco.

Mac muttered under his breath, “I’m sending Gnarly in here next time. He works cheaper.”

“This is a witch hunt,” he said. “You’re threatened by me. You’ve been threatened by me since the day they put you in that chair. I’ve given twenty-three years to this department—” “And you spent the last of them leaking confidential information and trying to engineer my removal,” David cut in, voice level. “The evidence doesn’t care about your years.”

Love Mysteries?

Love Animal Characters in Novels?

Search Lauren Carr at Book Readers Heaven for Many More!

But...today... Let's Enjoy 

The celebration lunch had barely gotten underway when chaos erupted in the lobby. Diners’ heads swiveled toward the glass doors as a cacophony of barking, snarling, and frantic cursing suddenly filled the air. Wondering if the commotion involved their own dogs, several guests half-rose from their tables. Archie’s emerald eyes widened. “That sounds like Gnarly.” 

“Of course it’s Gnarly,” Mac said, already balling up his napkin and tossing it onto the table. The entire group stood and hurried out of the dining room. They found Jeff Ingles in the lobby, covering his face with both hands in utter despair. When he spotted Mac, he pointed a trembling finger toward the grand staircase. “That—” Jeff sputtered, “—dog!” Mac suspected he wanted to use another word to describe Gnarly but opted not to use it in front of the hotel’s guests—the majority of whom were dog owners. The barking grew louder as the source returned down the main staircase. It also grew from a monotone bark to quadra-sound as three dogs joined the chorus and parade. With Gnarly in the lead, a Chow and a Siberian husky ran down the stairs. The Pomeranian who had sounded the alarm brought up the rear. At the bottom of the staircase, Gnarly made a sharp turn to the right and through the business wing of the hotel. The other dogs followed. No one had the nerve or ability to stop them. 

“Pippin!” Mac recognized the voice of the dog owners they had met two nights before. Donna and Brandon, who owned Fergus, the Irish Wolfhound, and Pippin, the Pomeranian. “How did she get out of our room?” Donna asked. “Housekeeping must have accidentally let her out when cleaning,” Brandon said. “But we put up the sign to not clean the room.” 

“Do you see what Gnarly’s doing, Mac?” Jeff shouted. “He is forming a gang!” “I think they’re called a dog pack,” Hector said. “Whatever they’re called, we need to round them up,” Mac said. Leaving Hope at the table with Kourtney and Amelia Rose, Mac, Dusty, David, and Hector ran through the business wing of the hotel. Hector called members of his security team to cut off the growing dog pack at the end of the corridor. Archie, Donna, Brandon, and a growing number of curious guests followed. They burst through the swinging doors into the storage area just in time to see a man frantically pushing a laundry cart toward a white van backed up to the loading dock. The dog pack was closing in fast. 

“Hit the gas!” the man yelled, diving into the back of the van with the cart. The driver floored it. The van peeled away with its rear doors flapping open. Gnarly didn’t hesitate. He launched himself from the edge of the loading dock and sailed gracefully into the back of the fleeing van. The Siberian Husky was right behind him. The van swerved wildly. Screams erupted from inside as the driver’s door flew open and he tumbled out with the Husky latched onto his arm. The van finally came to a halt when it slammed into the side of a Spencer Inn mini-bus. Not wanting to be left out, Pippin and the Chow leaped off the dock and raced over to join the fray in the back of the van.

“We are so going to be sued,” Jeff moaned, his brow drenched in sweat. “I don’t think so,” Mac said, following David, Dusty, and Hector toward the wrecked van. “Why would that man be stealing our linen cart?” “Even if he was stealing it, Gnarly didn’t have to use physical force to stop him.” “I don’t understand what has gotten into Pippin,” Donna apologized to everyone who would listen. Mac arrived at the back of the van in time to see Hector and Dusty examining the man in the back and the driver. Both were covered with multiple dog bites. David and Mac climbed into the back where Gnarly and Pippin were sniffing the overturned linen cart. Whatever had started the chaos had definitely to do with the linen cart the culprits were trying to steal. David pulled back a sheet to reveal a dog head with wiry gray hair wearing a jeweled collar. “Fergus!” Brandon shouted the moment he saw his dog. The big Irish Wolfhound lay unmoving on the ground, and for one terrible second Brandon’s face drained of color. 

Then shock snapped into pure, protective rage. “What did you do to my dog?” he roared, already charging toward the man who had tried to smuggle Fergus out of the hotel. “That’s my dog! He’s part of our family!” Mac stepped in and caught him around the chest, holding him back as Brandon strained against his arms, trying to reach both the dog napper and the still form of the wolfhound. It was only when Mac was certain that Brandon was not going to assault the dognappers that he released him to go to Fergus. 

He wrapped his arms around the great dog. Relief crossed his face when he felt his chest move. “He’s breathing,” he told his wife. Donna uttered a sigh of relief. With the two men subdued and demanding medical attention and lawyers, Dusty turned his attention to the Irish Wolfhound. He checked his breathing and examined his eyes. “He’s been drugged,” he told Brandon. “We’ll get him to a vet. He’ll be fine.” “We have veterinarians here with the convention,” Hector took out his radio to put in a call. “I’ll get one of them here ASAP.” 

Jeff pointed at the driver. “He was the delivery person who brought in the gift basket for a guest. I thought Gnarly was trying to steal it.” He jerked his chin at his accomplice. “And I saw you get on the elevator with our bellhop when he took the basket upstairs to the room.” “The oldest trick in the book,” Hector said. “He followed the gift basket that he sent to his target. Once he found out what room Fergus’s owners were staying in, he convinced housekeeping that it was his room and she let him in. That was when Pippin escaped.” “And went to get Gnarly to help.” Archie gave the German shepherd a congratulatory pat on the head. “And the other two?” Mac tossed his head at the Chow and Siberian Husky, whose owners were trying to round them up. “Back up,” Hector said with a laugh.

 “Why try to steal Fergus?” Brandon asked while stroking his unconscious dog’s head. “We’re not rich. Fergus doesn’t exactly have a stellar bloodline.” Mac fingered the rhinestone collar still strapped around the huge dog’s neck. “What’s this collar made out of?” Brandon shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Rhinestone? My wife picked it up from Amazon online. She thought it would make Fergus look classy.” Mac glanced over his shoulder at Archie. “Could someone mistake this collar for platinum and diamonds?” “Maybe,” Archie said with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“Are you saying that collar isn’t real?” the dognapper who had been in the back of the van asked. “It’s real cubic zirconia,” Donna said. “I bought it on Prime Day on Amazon for forty dollars. Thirty-five percent off.” The driver’s eyes bulged. “We went through all this for a forty dollar dog collar!” He lunged for his partner in crime, only for David to hold him back. “I want a lawyer!” “I knew this was going to happen.” Jeff mopped his brow with his soggy handkerchief. “The Spencer Inn has completely gone to the dogs.” 

~~~~~~

These dogs, all being champions, meant they were highly trained and were on leashes—released from the confines of the carriers after long trips. There were large dogs on leashes. Tiny dogs in bags. When a dog would try to move near another canine to make friends, their owners or handlers would jerk on their leash to pull them back to attention.

Among them all, there was one lone non-champion—a German shepherd sitting up tall in a leather wing-backed chair with a sign designating it as reserved for Spencer’s mayor, under the portrait of Robin Spencer, stroking Diablo, a fictional German Shepherd who had starred in her novels. Gnarly regarded the wall-to-wall dogs and owners with a puzzled expression on his face. Possibly he was wondering if he was to shepherd these dogs or not.

https://www.pexels.com/photo/

King Charles—the giant, moody Irish wolfhound

Runaway or dognapped?

No, I haven't attended a dog show, but I have attended one cat show, where a cousin by marriage was one of the judges... I've included the video of the dog show, simply to get you into an understanding of what happens if you've never attended one... The lineup might interest you as you can see the variety of dogs that are representing their individual breeds... In theory, they are the best of the best... with the ultimate Best of the Show...

All he wanted was to be loved. But they didn’t see that. All they saw was an investment.”

Me, I prefer Gnarly for my best of the best... He has been with fans of the Mac Faraday Mystery Series from the very beginning... In my mind, he can't be beaten... In fact, Gnarly has been elected Mayor--now that's what I call finding the right candidate to vote for!

 My Baby Has Four Paws

Best in Murder is one of the best of Carr's best! If that is possible... Let's just say that no matter which of her books you come across, you can be sure, as a mystery fan, you will never be disappointed... Carr has combined family into this ongoing series so that no matter how interesting the mystery, there is also a wonderful underlying connection of family love predominantly controlling the narrative. From the very first book, that family increases in size until we have an entire empire you might say of families continuously fighting criminals and overpowering them into submission... At this time in our nation, I found it a comforting assurance that good will indeed overcome any attempts to harm...

“Sometimes the dogs know best.”

There are many subplots in this book, so be prepared. Lots of characters, so fortunately Carr is one of the few writers who lists her characters in advance with a short intro of each--both ongoing and new characters for this book only... You may need it for this book especially... I did...

His hands shook. “I didn’t kill her!” Eddy’s eyes darted wildly into the gathering dark. “They did!” “Who?” Mac asked, calmly flanking left. “The government! Agents from the Pentagon! ...and they found out. It must’ve been some kind of weapon. Didn’t you see the news? Lydia Voss was on Mountain News 7 talking about it—said it was some top-secret government thing.

Just to illustrate, Mac Faraday's half brother has been appointed acting chief for another county, so there will be two different police units and staff, each with individuals who have personal agendas...

His chest was pressed tight against her back; she could feel his heart hammering through her shirt, fast and irregular. The knife was not a threat. It was already there—cold, flat steel kissing the soft skin of her throat hard enough that she felt the edge bite.

The Dog show is scheduled to be at the resort owned by Mac Faraday, which he received in an inheritance from his biological mother who he'd never known until she had died... He also inherited Gnarly and his mother's assistant who became Mac's wife... I found it quite interesting that a dog show would actually take place at a resort; I don't know why except, as a facilities analyst, I couldn't figure out how all that would occur could actually be accommodated there.  And, in fact, you will discover from the manager of the resort that he felt even more concerned than me...as he found himself being physically attacked in one way or another... Drama at this location added a perspective that was made for a disaster--and it indeed happened, to the delight of readers...

David sat back in the chair. The relief was still there, quiet and solid beneath his ribs. He had made the right call under pressure. Someone else had turned it into a killing. And now the investigation would start from the truth instead of a lie.

Then you have the rich animal owners who are seeking awards for the newsworthiness of owning such a valuable animal... Versus the actual internal feelings of the dogs--one in particular--who is not in the least interested in being a show dog... He runs away often and the last place he hid proves to be just what he wanted to have--somebody who would love him just for himself and not because of his long line of well-bred animals...

Please, God, she prayed without realizing she was doing it. I’ll do anything. Just send someone. Please. She burst out of the tree line onto the narrow mountain road just as the sun cleared the ridge. A black-and-gold Spencer Police cruiser sat angled across the lane. “Help!” she screamed. Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees on the asphalt. “Help me!”

And, of course, murder is involved...other criminals are connected in one way or another which leads to more death.... As is the case with Carr's books, however, there is little discussion of the deaths, rather the clues needed to find whodunit... Carr's ability to merge criminal acts as a lesser role while spotlighting the methods by which cases are solved is unique in a way I'm not quite able to put in words... I just know it is clever, unique--with a spotlight always on the good guys as the center of attention as they perform their important roles as law officers...

“You’re not going back,” he said again, quieter this time but with absolute finality. “Gnarly’s going to stay with you. We’re going to keep you safe. And you’re going to help us finish this.” Gopher stared at him, searching his face for any sign that the promise might break. When she didn’t find one, something in her shoulders finally loosened. Her hand rested on the big dog’s head like an anchor.

Carr brings in AI, a headliner at this time, as an important prototype for animals is being tested... While at the same time, she hones in on the rich people who look to dogs, not as family members, but merely additions to their own award winning abilities of owning "high-priced" dogs which brings headlines for owners, including awards which they can use to support their importance and ability to "own" the best...

The truth was already moving. He only had to outlast the lie.

In other words, a book written, perhaps, based upon today's life in the United States and in the headlines as negative influences on our lives... Could it be that writers are all writing about what is happening as they learn that their "creations" are being scraped into AI for the benefit of Tech billionaires, without any recognition or compensation to the actual writers who have "produced" what is now being stolen and used? I'm still trying to understand how that is justified as legal... While we are forced to ensure our work includes documentation of whether we use copyrighted material... "Do as I say, not as I do..." type of thinking?

Vance slid the card across the desk with two fingers. “Joe thought I ought to know I have a snake problem in your building.” David looked at the card, then back up. “I know...He's not working alone...

“Joe also said we can stop spending county resources chasing that prototype collar of his. Claimed it’s no longer a concern.” David’s eyebrows rose. “That technology is worth millions. Did he say why it’s suddenly not a concern?” “He did not. And I didn’t press him. I’ve known enough men like Joe Denton to understand they only explain themselves when it suits them.” Vance tapped the business card lightly. “This, however, is different. Soliciting a commissioner to help remove a sitting acting sheriff is grounds for termination. I can make that happen before the end of the week if you want it.” David was quiet for a moment. Outside the tall window, the courthouse lawn was green and peaceful, the kind of view that made people forget how much quiet work went into keeping a county steady. “I want him,” David said finally. “But I want him clean. If we move too early, he takes half a dozen others with him into the dark, and we never prove how deep the rot goes.

No blood. No fibers consistent with a struggle or a body being transported. No biological material of any kind in the cargo area.” Mac raised an eyebrow. “Clark Kirby confessed to carrying Natalie Hagman—with a fractured skull and bleeding—in the back of this van. And the lab found nothing?”  “Not a drop,” Dusty confirmed, turning a page. “They went over every inch.” Mac opened the driver’s door and leaned in, examining the console and the GPS unit. Various user profiles popped up for music stations under different names: classic rock, hip hop, a couple of news stations—one conservative, one liberal—and even a religious talk station.

I found it very interesting that the book included a review of one of the men who was killed had been listening to the above material... So I took advantage of that to explore what that was all about, for my own thoughts about the book as written. So, readers may choose to participate in this additional subplot, or bypass... All in all, though, I was fascinated by this book for many reasons and thoroughly enjoyed Carr's latest, which seemed to spotlight all that is going on in today's world... Seriously, many writers are creating villains with similar characteristics of present politicians... 

But that was all in addition to the ongoing family drama that routinely is pulled in to fighting crime via the Mac Faraday Mystery Series... I love the entire series... This one is even more fun! It takes a look at the connection with animals in our daily lives, especially for children or those who have been damaged by humans in some way... Kudos to the author for all that she gives to us in every single one of her books! If you haven't read Carr,  this is a perfect one to start with, given the number of animals involved...

As always, for Lauren, I'll always highly recommend!

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