Scene: Feet up in a recliner, green, fabric. A gift from one of my parent’s friends because he liked his old chair better. Heat radiating off the blue soapstone wood stove in the corner. Cadenced breathing coming from a black lump on a brownish gray dog bed. Dim lights.

A gray day sits out my picture window. A “snow day” actually.

Except there is no snow. The thermometer reads 38 degrees. If the sun would peek out, it would be beautiful. Instead today is dreary.

My next book is slow coming. I debate every move to the point where I write dual scenes. For example, my latest has two prominent characters making a narrow escape from a psychopath. One should get shot… then again, she might not.

The other version has the dual getting rescued and the bullet piercing skin is definite.

Otherwise the scene would be expected… boring.

The rhythmic sounds of my dog snoring interrupt my characters dodging of objects that would cause some type of pain. I wonder if dogs could have a deviated septum? Would they need an operation to breathe better? Should I be concerned?

Silence. Oh yeesh… She’s looking at me with her big brown Lab eyes. This could mean almost anything except she doesn’t want to go out. She crawls right up on my lap when she wants to do that. She doesn’t want food because she’ll sit in front of me and make noise by bouncing her tail off the floor. Water bowl is full. Her purple bone is under her stomach, hedgehog is to the right, and her head is laying on her squirrel. No missing toys.

Why is she staring?

Oh… more snores. I guess she’s sleeping with her eyes open.

Kind of creepy.

It is starting to rain…

Disclaimer: I got up to get my camera and apparently this is code for “cookie”.  Adorable dog quickly becomes P.I.A.  Moment over…