Several people have e-mailed me and asked if I would post an excerpt
from my book. So, this is Chapter 18 -- it's a flashback, and I think
it works pretty well as a stand-alone piece, although it would make more
sense in its full context. But it will provide an idea of what the
style is like....

===============================================================

When I was a kid, my Grandparents (Mom's parents) had a little summer
cottage on Lake Delavan in Wisconsin. I'd always spend a week or two
there every summer with Grandma Sue and Grandpa Earl.

The summer I turned nine, Grandpa Earl learned he was dying. He had
undergone surgery for lung cancer early in the spring; one lung had been
removed, but the cancer had spread to the other lung, and elsewhere, and
now it was just a matter of a few months.

One afternoon, Grandpa Earl and I went down to the pier behind the
house. The pier was an L-shaped wooden construction with a built-in
bench on the end, and extended about twenty feet into the lake. We sat
down on the bench, Grandpa and I, followed by his lazy but friendly old
German Shepherd, Duke.

Grandpa looked out at the lake and said, "Larry, I want to tell you a
story." He took a deep breath, coughed, and closed his eyes for a few
moments. "When I was a boy, about your age, my parents bought me a dog.
He wasn't a Shepherd, like Duke -- he was just a mutt. He had some
collie in him, some beagle, maybe some retriever. Hell, he could've had
some rhinoceros in him, for all I know. Well, he didn't have a horn,
though." He grinned.

"I named him Buddy," Grandpa went on. He glanced at me for a moment,
then at Duke, then back to the lake.

"Buddy was my best friend for years and years. He'd go everywhere I'd
go. He'd walk me to school in the morning, and he'd be there waiting
for me when I got out in the afternoon. This was before they had school
buses. I think I'm supposed to say something about walking thirty miles
to school every day, through snow and sleet and tornadoes and locusts
and such, but it wouldn't be true. Actually, the school was only about
three blocks away. Once in awhile, I'd step in a mud puddle, or get a
little wet if it was raining. That was pretty darned inconvenient. But
that was about as bad as it ever got.

"Anyway, I taught Buddy a bunch of tricks. He could sit, and roll over,
and beg, and speak, and fetch a stick or a ball. He could walk on his
hind legs, a little, although no one would ever mistake him for Fred
Astaire. Too short, for one thing. Plus, he didn't like wearing ties.

"So one day we're playing around in Farmer Cook's cornfield -- it's not
there, anymore -- some big company bought the land in the '50s, and now
it's all condos and office buildings. But back then, Buddy and I used
to play hide-and-seek in the cornfield, and Buddy always managed to find
me, no matter how well I thought I was hiding. Even when the cornstalks
were way over my head.

"And then I'd tell Buddy to stay, so I could go hide somewhere else, and
he'd give me a minute or two to get myself situated, and then he'd come
and sniff me out again."

Grandpa twiddled his fingers on the bench, absent-mindedly. I could see
that telling this story was hard for him. He missed Buddy. He loved
Duke, but Buddy had been his first dog. You never really let go of the
first one.

"So," Grandpa continued, "I find my new hiding spot, and I sit down and
wait. And Buddy doesn't come looking for me. I'm figuring he's turning
the tables -- now he’s hiding, and he wants me to look for him. He'd do
that sometimes. So I go looking for him, and I can't find him. I run
home. No sign of him. So I go back to the cornfield. He's not there,
either.

"By now, I'm getting really scared. I start looking all over. I go to
the schoolyard, the creek, over to some friends' houses, back home, I
search the house, the basement, the garage, everyplace. And he's
nowhere."

By the age of nine, I had developed a lifelong love of dogs. I think
Duke had a lot to do with that. Grandma and Grandpa had bought Duke as
a puppy, just before I was born. In a lot of ways, Duke and I had grown
up together. So Grandpa's story hit me hard. "What happened to Buddy,
Grandpa? Did somebody take him?"

He looked up at me. He was tired. He wore a big, heavy T-shirt, even
though it was getting warm out here, because he was ashamed of the long,
ruddy scar that indicated where his diseased lung had been removed. He
knew he was on the way out, and his body was just about ready to give up
the struggle.

But his eyes were alive. His eyes said he knew something that made all
the other stuff -- the cancer, the operation, the scar, the pain, the
fear -- totally irrelevant. "Larry," he said, "I asked myself that
question for years. I thought maybe he got hit by a car or a train or
something. But I never believed it, not really. He was too smart for
that. I thought maybe somebody snatched him, but that didn't seem
right, either. Why would anyone do that?

"I never forgot about Buddy. I thought about him every day of my life.
And I've always had a dog ever since, although none of them could ever
really take Buddy's place. Look at Duke, there -- he's old and lazy,
but he's as lovable as ever. Not a mean bone in his body. But he could
never learn the tricks Buddy learned. Duke's only tricks are 'eat' and
'pee on the rug.' But Grandma and I love him, anyway. He's got a good
heart."

At the mention of his name, Duke stood up, yawned, and walked over to
where Grandpa was sitting on the bench. He nuzzled Grandpa’s hand; the
old man automatically began scratching him behind the ears.

"Did you ever find out what happened to Buddy, Grandpa?"

He looked up. "Huh? Oh -- sorry, Larry, I lost my train of thought
there for a moment. Anyway, let me finish the story.

"Well, as you know, my doctor tells me I don't have much time left.
You've seen the scar on my chest. Apparently, there's nothing much they
can do for me at this point. It's OK. I've lived a long time, had a
good life. Had 41 years with the best woman God ever made. Had four
great kids -- don't ever tell anybody, but your Mom has always been my
favorite. Good grandkids, too -- keep it that way after I'm gone, would
you?

"And I always had my dogs.

"If I had it to do all over again....? Would I change anything? Yeah,
I wouldn't ever have started smoking. And I wouldn't have bought your
Grandma a toaster for her birthday that one year. That didn't go over
so well. She forgave me, eventually. She always does. I just hope
she'll be able to forgive me for leaving her, when I....when I....do.

"OK, let me get back to the point. See, after my doctor told me about
my condition, I was upset. Couldn't accept it at first. I cried for
awhile; Grandma cried, too. We stopped, though, because it didn't
accomplish anything, and we both figured maybe it would be better to
enjoy the rest of our time together and make the best of it, rather than
flood the living room.

"I've never been the religious type, but I prayed a little. I got in
touch with some old friends I hadn't talked to for awhile. I tried to
take care of a few things around the house, things I had been putting
off, like fixing that one stair in the basement, and that leak in the
bathroom sink.

"So, one day, I just felt like taking a walk by the lake here. This was
a few weeks ago. I can't walk too far anymore, not with one lung, and
that lung not much good on top of it, but I can still get around a
little.

"I walked over that way" -- he pointed to the north -- "about ten or
twelve houses or so. And you can see where that clump of trees is right
there. I was just in front of those trees, walking kind of slowly,
and....

"I heard a bark.

"And here comes this dog, running towards me, from between that red
brick house over there, and that big brown one next to it, but you can't
really see it so good from where we're sitting because of all the trees
in the way.

"Anyway, the dog is running at me like a bullet shot out of a gun, and
barking up a storm, and I figure I'm about to get bit, and then I just
happen to notice....

"It's Buddy."

My eyes got big. "Buddy? But how....?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Larry. But it was him. He ran up to
me and jumped up into my arms, just like he did when I was a kid."

I did some quick and perfunctory math. "But Grandpa, he would have to
be 50 years old, at least! And dogs don't live anywhere near that
long!"

Duke yawned in agreement.

"I can't explain it. All I know is it was him. He did all the old
tricks. For a couple hours, I was a kid again. I just wish I could
have asked him where he'd been all these years."

I stared out at the lake. At nine, the impossible doesn't always seem
impossible. At nine, you can sometimes still believe in miracles.

"But Grandpa, what made him turn up after so long?"

The old man looked up, flashed a brief grin, and patted Duke again
“Well, I think he knows I’m leaving soon. I think he came back to say
goodbye.”

WOW. You already know that I think you are an amazing writer. But that
just sealed the deal. It brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for
sharing. I really do look forward to reading more

nice lex - thanks for the glimpse!

Lex, Truely incredible story,,,
WoW!!! I would really like to read
the entire book,,,, Superb Job,,,

Hehe sorry had to read it again.

I love reading stories like this...thanks for sharing Chapter 18 with
us. Looking forward to reading the entire book.

Lex, this one will touch hearts. Melted mine. Like others, would love to
read the whole book.
Hugz
BlushingAngel

Very sweet... reminds me of my grandpa!

Oh Wow Lex.....That is fantastic...I can't wait to read the whole
thing..it really touched me..more than you could ever know