Molly's New Year's Resolutions

Greeting, Readers,

This year I am making three New Year's Resolutions:

1. Get plenty of rest.
 

2.  Exercise every day.

3. Read good literature.

Happy New Year, Everyone,

Molly

Molly's Christmas Haiku

Day After Christmas


Christmas is over
Candy canes are out of reach
So is the ham.   Sigh.

By Molly

(canine author of   "The Molly Chronicles.")

Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays, Everyone,

With licks and tail wags from Molly and Elaine.

Molly's Christmas Shopping Tips

Dear Readers,

I recently found out that humans do NOT like to get dead mice or rawhide chews for Christmas presents. Go figure! Instead I'm giving The Molly Chronicles to all my humans for Christmas. You can order The Molly Chronicles by clicking on the link below:

The Molly Chronicles






Happy Holidays to all of you,

Love,

Molly

Molly

Dear Readers,

We went up to the Lake for Thanksgiving. I was looking forward to this with great joy. You see I'm the alpha female of the pack up there, and Astro and Buddy happily accept my capable leadership.  So . . . imagine my surprise when I barked my "hello' to the pack and found this . . .  this  . . .  Zina . . . who had usurped my place.   She was an angry snarly b!@#@#!   She tried to keep me out of the house. Fortunately, my human stepped in and saved me from a very cold night outside in the cold. In the end peace was achieved. A few nips and snarls put her in her place. A tentative detente was reached between Zina and me.  


Molly

Molly Says

Beat Black Friday.

Avoid the lines.
Avoid the crowds.

Shop on line:
Buy "The Molly Chronicles"
Available on  Amazon

Molly's Ad

My human says it's an ad, not a commercial.  Big woof!

Molly

p.s. I'm supposed to tell you that The Molly Chronicles makes a great Christmas present. (You can buy The Molly Chronicles on Amazon)

Molly's Second Commercial

We're shooting another commercial.

I had to wear this stupid hat.

Buster, my publicist says The Molly Chronicles  makes a great Christmas present.

Licks and tail wags to you all,
Molly

Click

Click

“Klondike Detective Agency. Klondike speaking..”

“Ahem.”

“Yes. Is there something you’d like to know?”

“The meaning of life.”

"Excuse me?"

"The meaning of life. My life to be more specific."

"No you don’t understand, sir. "

"Actually, it’s madam."

"Madam?"

"Not that kind of madam. Just, well, you know. . . Maybe Ma’am is better.”

"You see we’re not that kind of agency. We answer questions like 'Is your spouse cheating on you?' 'Did the guy in the red Ferrari really get a whiplash?'  'Who’s stealing the petty cash money?' That sort of thing.”

“I’m  not married. The bastard was already awarded the settlement, and Bertha was the one dipping into the petty  cash."

“But”

"And a very generous settlement it was.”

"Ma’am, if you don’t actually have a problem, there's nothing I can do for you.”

"But I do. You’re not listening. I have to know the meaning of life. I need to know it by next Thursday."
"What happens on Thursday?"
"Bertha gets promoted. She's going to be my supervisor. So, I'll call you back tonight about eight o'clock. Okay?”

"I can’t. . . "

Click.

I just hate to let a client down. Klondike Detective Agency has a ninety sever per cent success rating. Remarkable, actually. But this one can’t be solved.

So I did what any good detective would do. I pulled out my Taro deck and dealt three cards - the fool, six pentacles, and a cuppy knight.

Then I poured myself a single malt.

And another.

And another.

I switched on the TV and settled down for a marathon run of “Gray’s Anatomy.” waiting for his - excuse me - her phone call. The sound of the telephone jarred the nerve endings in my brain, and I knew exactly what I'd say to him - excuse me - her. I answered with a quick "hello." 

She didn't bother with formalities; only one word, “Well?”

“You need a job.”

“No I don’t”

Not just any job. You need a job as a detective. As my assistant. You can start tomorrow. Or next Thursday if you prefer."

“I expect $120/hour and six weeks off every year.“

"I can’t possibly. . ."

Click.

Molly's not the only one!

Signed,

Her human

Ask Molly

Molly:  I'm in shock. I can't believe it. My human actually wrote a short story. It's called "Click," and she'll post it here as soon as she tweaks it.

It's not as good as my writing, mind you, but for a human, she's not half bad. It is pretty funny.

Licks to you all,

Molly

Molly's First Commercial

For a good time . . .

It's . . .

"The Molly Chronicles"

(Available on  Amazon.)

Publicity

Buster, my publicist didn't waste any time.

Buster the publicist

 

 We got to work immediately. I spent all day yesterday on set.   We started with hair, makeup, and costumes. Then they shot some stills and a video. (The video needs work. Mainly because it was shot upside down.)  I must say that the camera loved me.  Here are a few of the shots. The commercial will be featured soon on Facebook, and of course posted here.

Signing off with a tired but contented sigh,

Molly

Ask Molly

Today's "Ask Molly" letter comes from Buster.

Dear Molly,

Do you need a good publicist?  I just finished reading The Molly Chronicles and I realized that you don't have a lot of publicity for the book. You would think that the people at Amazon would help you out with publicity.

I have sterling credentials. I have had extensive experience chasing balls and SQRLS, and barking. And I am a great caretaker for my human who would be lost without me. And, most importantly, I'm very cute. If cuteness is the deciding factor, I'm your man/dog.

Oops, gotta go. SQRLS in the back yard. A watchdog's work is never done.


Buster



Dear Buster,

When  can you start?

Molly

Ask Molly

Terry from Hercules CA writes:

Dear Molly,

You did a great job helping the owls.  Now, what about the humans? Do they need your help before you head home from Galveston?

Terry

P.S. I loved The Molly Chronicles  and plan to give a copy to each of my friends and my cat for Christmas.

Dear Terry,

Thanks you for your concern for the love life of our humans.  Sadie and Yehudi the taiko drummer are doing nicely. They plan to be married next May after Yehudi gets back from going on tour with his band, The Forgettables. They are able to make time in their busy schedules for music and love.

Signing off with a la-la-la, and a bong-bong-bong
Molly

P.S. I'm glad you enjoyed The Molly Chronicles.  

Winston and Wynona

Dear Readers,
Molly the Border Collie reporting.

I am exhausted.

You will remember that I had flown to Galveston Texas to straighten out the owls and the romantic mess they were in. To recap, Wynona Owl had a crush on Winston Owl, who was besotted by Sadie Jetson the human, who had it bad for Yehudi, the taiko drum player from Vancouver.

 My first chore was to  round up the remaining eight hamsters running loose in Sadie home. Being a herding dog, I was pleased to be able to put my innate skills to good use, although the temptation to eat them was strong indeed. Then I loaded the hamsters into a box, wrapped it in shiny read paper and tied a red velvet ribbon around it.

Next I sent a paw-written note to each of the owls:

“If you’re looking for  love, meet me at the  red and white barn on pig farm hill tonight at midnight.

 

A secret admirer”

Finally, I prepared a love nest for the owls - 

owl nesting box


 complete with a Jacuzzi and rose petals sprinkled on the bed.

For mood music, I recorded the scratching sounds mice make as the run through the rafters. Then I hid behind some straw bales and waited.

Winston was the first to arrive with a “what the . . .” expression on his face. Wynona flew in a couple of minutes later.

I had hoped to see courting behavior. Instead, Winston scratched his hind end, seemingly taking no notice of Wynona.

“Hello, Winston,” Wynona clucked. And she hid her face under a wing, overcome by shyness.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I got this note . . .” she began. “Oh, what a beautiful box! I wonder what’s inside it.” She flew down to the hamster box and tore it open with her sharp talons.

“Mine,” screeched Winston, snatching a hamster right out of Wynona’s claws.

Oh, bother! What would it take to get these two lovebirds together? (And I use the term "lovebirds" loosely.) They were clicking, at each other, and Winston even took a swipe at Wynona with his claw, (the one that wasn't holding the hamster).

There was only one card left to play. I replaced the CD of scratching mice with a rendition of “Owl Be Seeing You.” As the soulful music echoed through the barn and down the slopes of pig farm hill, the owls’ angry clicking was replaced by cooing and soft, vibrating hoots that would melt the heart of a chicken. (All chicken are stupid.) Winston, leaned against Wynona, who gently preened Winston’s feathers and nodded her head up and down in time to the music. I left the two of them alone. My job was completed. If all goes well, there will be owlets next spring.

This is Matchmaker Molly, signing off.