The Sacred Dog

Don’t Mess with Jenny Kitchen

It’s time to give a little love to The Sacred Dog and to Jenny Kitchen, one of my favorite characters in this novel. She is the feisty grandmother of one the main characters.

To backtrack a little, this novel centers on a feud between two men in a small town. Frank Hooker owns The Sacred Dog, a bar where the locals gather to drink and gab. The only one not welcome is Al Kitchen because Frank unfairly blames him for the death of his brother. Throw in a dark secret involving Frank’s wife. You know nothing good is going to come from this situation.

Al didn’t have it easy as a kid. His parents died when he was young, so he came to live with his grandparents. His grandfather was an abusive drunk. The only good thing he did for Al was to teach him to hit a baseball.

But Al has a strong ally in his grandmother, who had to put up with her own share of abuse. Probably the best thing that happened to Jenny is when her husband died of a heart attack in the junkyard behind their house. “Kitchen men are the meanest men. Don’t you ever be that way. Treat the people you love better,” she told Al after one such experience.

Jenny is tough. She has to be, living on social security and what Al, who continues to live with her as an adult, contributes to their household expenses.

She keeps to herself although she does have a few women friends in town. Al is the main person in her life although she can be tough on him. She wants him to do better.

She’s also Al’s biggest defender. His grandmother might not always have protected Al from Pops, but she stuck up for him when his teachers or the principal said he misbehaved in school. “Not my boy. You must be mistaken.” 

Jenny is the one who got Frank Hooker to let her grandson back inside his bar. She may be short, but she looked up at Frank with defiant eyes while she negotiated a two drink maximum. 

Then there are her cats, lots and lots of them, although like Al, she always has a favorite tom she lets inside the house.

Here’s scene from The Sacred Dog. Al is sitting in his first car in the junkyard behind the house he shares with his grandmother.

Al finished the joint when he heard the brakes on his grandmother’s car squeal as she backed it to the barn. He felt good and rubbery as he watched Ma open the trunk of her car. She bought it new after Pops died with his life insurance money. Now the car’s paint wouldn’t even hold onto a shine. Cats circled Ma’s ankles as she shuffled through the tall grass toward the barn. He laughed when she accidentally stepped on one of the cats and the thing squawked in pain. After a while, Ma walked into the barn and back outside, carrying a pail in little jerking motions toward the woods, shooing the cats away.

He lifted the bottle for another swig.

Al swore his grandmother must be made of cast iron, the way she was able to outlive that son of a bitch husband of hers. He saw photos of her when she was young, not a wrinkle on her almost pretty face. Her large, crooked mouth marred it. She used to have hair the same color as Al, a red that looked as if the strands had rusted in the rain. His eyes traced her wander into the woods. He spotted her flowered housedress between the trees, and then she returned to the barn. She was hollering for him, and Al started to laugh when he saw her try to lift the bags of cat food from the trunk of the car. He never saw Ma wear anything new, but she spent a fortune feeding her cats.

He slipped from the Mustang.

“Need somethin’, Ma?” Al said as he approached his grandmother.

“Where you’ve been, Al? I’ve been callin’ and callin’ you.”

“Just out back.”

She gave him a sniff and frowned.

“Out back where? A barroom?” She pointed to the bags. “Pour those bags into the metal barrel in the barn.”

Al hoisted a bag over each shoulder and followed his grandmother to the barn. He began teasing her about her cats, which were now in hiding. They all hated him. He didn’t blame them. They knew what would happen if he caught up with any of them. Ma lifted the top of the trashcan for him. He breathed through his mouth as he poured the contents of the bag into the barrel because the barn stunk of cat spray.

“Hey, Ma, tell me. What were you doin’ in the woods with the pail?”

His grandmother worked her mouth.

“One of my cats lost her litter, Queenie, the calico. She rolled on the three kittens and smothered them. So, I took their bodies in the pail to dump them in the woods.” Her eyes closed in a catlike squint. She scratched the back of her head. “When I looked them over, they seemed okay. But I guess cat mothers know when there’s somethin’ wrong with their young.”

LINKS:

You can find The Sacred Dog, in Kindle and paperback, on Amazon: https://mybook.to/thesacreddog

It is available in paperback at Barnes and Noble: https://bit.ly/40T2aou

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The Sacred Dog

The Real Sacred Dog

Although those who know me might feel differently, nobody in my next novel, The Sacred Dog is based on a real person. The one exception is the dog, Louise, who belongs to Frank Hooker, a main character in the book. At some point Frank decided to rename his bar The Sacred Dog in honor of her. Louise also has a pivotal role later in the book. 

The real inspiration for Louise is a dog named Sheena. We didn’t call her that but she knew the name, so we were stuck. Hank and I were living with our parcel of six kids in a small town in the sticks of Western Massachusetts when she found us.

Her owners, who lived down the road, left her tied up when they moved to the other side of town until she broke loose and found our compost heap. Her owner said we would keep her after I called. When the man came to drop off her bowl and chain, the dog lay on the deck and didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Sheena knew better.

Sheena, who was a black Labrador retriever, came with habits. She liked to wander the neighborhood, which was heavily wooded, visiting every dog and home. She knew where there were handouts from the neighbors. She was the alpha dog and all the dogs bowed to her as if she was indeed a queen. She enjoyed rolling in cow manure at a farm up the road. She enjoyed manure, period. Sheena also was pregnant, we found out later, and after the litter was born, we had her spayed. 

Sheena took to our family and sat regally amidst the hubbub of six kids playing inside. That’s when I dubbed her “the sacred dog” since she would put up with any amount of noise and activity.

At the time I worked as a reporter at home for a local newspaper. When I wrote at my desk, Sheena slept beneath my legs. As soon as I turned off the computer, she got up and found something else to do. Her job was done.

When Sheena died, I grieved longer for her than I did relatives I loved. And then she became a character in the book I began before the turn of the new century. (More on that another time.) Now, I am glad the book is being published thanks to darkstroke books. 

By the way, The Sacred Dog is a tale about a feud between two men — Frank Hooker and Al Kitchen. And I can honestly say nothing good is going to come from this feud.

Here’s a scene from The Sacred Dog involving Louise. Frank is at a river with Crystal, his 9-year-old daughter who has just returned to town with her mother, and his dog.

“Is it true your bar used to be named for Mommy, but you began calling it after your pet dog because you were mad we moved to Florida?” She looked directly at him. “Am I right, Daddy?”

Frank sat upright. “Well, honey, that isn’t the real story. I’d never do somethin’ like that,” he lied. “The new name just seemed like a fine idea at the time. The Sacred Dog. It has a certain ring to it. Don’t you think?”

His daughter’s head shook energetically. “Oh, yeah,” she said.

“Besides, Louise is an awfully good dog.”

Crystal knew Louise’s story. Frank wrote her after he found the dog hanging around his trashcans one afternoon when he took a break from writing up the monthly liquor order. He called Monk Stevens, in his capacity as Holden’s dog officer, and he told Frank she was probably dumped there because she was bone-skinny and had no collar. “She’s yours if you want her,” he told Frank. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Frank decided on the spot to save her. It’d been a while since he had a dog, and he took to calling the dog Louise after a girl he once knew who bore the same mournful expression. He fed her as much food as she wanted and within a few weeks, she became eternally grateful. One slow night, when Frank and Early played cribbage, Louise nudged the topside of her head beneath Frank’s hand. After a while, he told her to “git,” and though the dog was clearly disappointed, she left him alone while he played and talked with Early.

“You know Early. That dog is a saint, a pure saint. She never complains, even when those kids come in Sunday night to bother her. Look at ’er. The way she sets there, you’d think she was somethin’ sacred.” He paused while he studied the fan of cards in his hand. “Yeah, that’s what she is. Louise is the sacred dog.”

“Oh shit, Frank. You’ve gone off your rocker. Dogs aren’t sacred. They shit where you go. They eat shit and roll in shit.”

“Louise is different, I tell you.”

“Why don’t you shut the heck up and get me another beer?”

What had been a pet owner’s moment of tenderness now became an inspiration for Frank. A few weeks later, he decided to officially change the name of his bar, which was still Ronnie’s, to The Sacred Dog. Truthfully, he was thinking about getting a new name after it dawned on him it was rather foolish to have a bar named for his ex-wife. He discounted using his own or anything with the word Holden in it. The town had enough buildings named after John Holden, the town’s founder. Early suggested the Bowtie, but Frank said no one ever wore one in his bar and he expected no one ever would.

“A John Deere cap or torn T-shirt would be more like it,” Frank said, and Early laughed as if he had a tickle in his throat.

The Sacred Dog suited Frank fine, so he asked a lawyer in town to draw up the papers to make it legal. Then he asked Early to make the sign. The regulars thought Frank was joking, but when he told them the story, they agreed it was a good name for a bar. Some stiffs in the back room of the general store did grumble to Frank about it. The pastor of the Holden Congregational Church called to complain, but Frank, who had only been to church as an adult for funerals and his own wedding, told the men he didn’t see the connection.

LINK: The Sacred Dog is available for Kindle readers to pre-order. I am grateful if you do as it helps with ratings. The official release is Dec. 27 and paperback will follow. Here’s the link: https://mybook.to/thesacreddog

ABOUT THE PHOTO ABOVE: That’s Sheena and me, when I had dark hair.

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