The Dogs Don’t Bark at Steve’s House Any More.
Pictured below is Hunter, a golden retriever owned by my great old friend Steve Miller, who I partied with back in the old days at Mary Washington College’s “The Tunnel.” Beside Hunter are the shredded remains of my first novel.
It turns out that Hunter’s best trick is literary criticism, as he got a hold of Steve’s copy of “The Dogs Don’t Bark In Brooklyn Any More,” perused it, and then made his opinion known, as the picture illustrates. (The photo was taken by nanny-cam while Steve was at work.) Considering certain plot developments involving canine characters in the story, I admit his reaction is understandable.
Please, Steve, do not teach Hunter to type. I kinda don’t want to see his review on Amazon.