Eight Years Ago

Eight years ago, I spent Inauguration Day working on a short story. It was the first round of the 2017 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge, and I was struggling mightily. I had a week to write a 2,500-word story—a story I could not find.

I was assigned Romance as my genre, but I couldn’t find any romance in my soul. I was angry, fuming about the new president. I didn’t want write happy ever after. I didn’t want to write happy of any kind at all. I wanted to write sad, mad, dark, spooky, scary—anything that wasn’t happy.

Eventually, I pulled together a 1600-word story about a middle aged woman who finds romance on her daily commute. I sent it in certain that my challenge was over. The story was too short, I told myself. It doesn’t have enough romance. It was too blah. It wasn’t my best work. Oh, well. There’s always next year.

A few months later, the results were announced. Much to my surprise, the judges liked my story, and I advanced to the next round. That next round is when I wrote the short story that eventually became my novella Greeks Bearing Gifts.

And that first story? You can read the competition version here, After the contest, I polished it, and it became the first short story I ever sold. You can find it Smoking Pen Press’s anthology A Wink and a Smile (also available as an ebook and an audio book).

Since 2017, I’ve only participated in the NYC Short Story Challenge twice. I didn’t do very well either time, but I signed up again this year. The contest starts at the end of the week, and just like eight years ago, I want to write anything but happy.

Duncan

Today would have been Duncan’s 16th birthday. When I adopted him in 2016, I asked him to give me eight years. He gave me eight years and two months.

Duncan passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on May 26th. He collapsed and was gone in minutes. I was not prepared.

The very first picture I took of Duncan, on the night I brought him home

He had seen the vet a month before. She raved about what good shape he was in for his age (15 1/2). I expected to have a few years left with him, not a few weeks.

Duncan was not a dog that demanded a lot. He never demanded anything. All he wanted to was to sit in a soft place and have a clear view of me. He was gentle and quiet. An introvert to the core.

He was never interested in toys or play. Walks were tolerated, but he would have happily lived without them. He loved snow. He played in autumn leaves. He loved storms and would watch them through the window in fascination. He would never snuggle with me unless I was asleep.

The last picture I ever took of Duncan, on the day before he died

One of the things I loved most about him were his wonky ears. His ears were not symmetrical on his head, nor were they the same size and shape. They drove groomers nuts. As he got older, he had a tendency to keep one ear down and one ear up—even when he was sleeping.

Not that he could hear anything with that upright ear. Duncan was deaf for the last years of his life. Even when he could hear, he was not any kind of guard dog. The only time he ever barked was in his sleep. Awake, he just watched the world move around him.

He was the sweetest old man dog I ever had, and I miss him daily.

If you would like to do something in Duncan’s honor, please consider a donation to Young at Heart Senior Pet Adoptions or a rescue in your community.