The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

Chapter 4, 

December 2013

Oh no, the cat-doctor

“We should take him to the veterinarian to be checked out,” the lady said. “He could have medical problems that need to be treated.”

I’d just been bathed with nice-smelling stuff, and the lady was drying my soft, clean fur with a fluffy towel. It felt good. I wasn’t sure what the man and woman were talking about. I hoped it wasn’t the cat-doctor. The way Tommy smirked when he said that name terrified me.

“I’ll come with you,” he said. “He may get frightened riding in a vehicle.”

“That would be helpful since we don’t have a harness for him yet.” The lady tidied up the towels and put away the bottles of liquids that she had used to wash me. “They don’t make appointments, so we may have to wait a bit, but it’s important.”

“I agree.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she said. She picked me up and carefully carried me outside to a funny little vehicle that didn’t have any doors, a proper windshield, or much of anything. She put me on her lap and said, “We have to leave room for our golf cart driver.”

I wanted to tell them I understood. We were going for a drive in a carrito de golf. I’d seen many golf carts, but I’d never ridden in one. My previous owner had a moto, a scooter, and I would stand in the footwell while the man drove; sometimes another human friend rode with us.

This man backed the little vehicle out onto the street and turned south. We passed a few of my regular places where I usually scrounge for food. I hadn’t crossed this street since my accident a year ago. When I was younger and didn’t know that the roads were dangerous for animals, a car hit me on my rump. I have a limp, and when I’m tired, I lift my right hind leg and run on three legs.

Our drive was very short, and I had fun riding in the carrito de golf, snuggled between two people who seemed to like me. We parked in front of a building with many brightly painted images of dogs and cats.

“The memory wall is filling up,” the woman said, nodding towards the paintings.

“Yes, it’s a nice way to help support the veterinary clinic and remember cherished pets,” the man agreed.

I looked at the wall. There were numerous pretty paintings of dogs and cats, but I could smell fear. Many sick and frightened pets came to this building.

Oh no! This had to be the evil cat-doctor that Tommy had warned me about.

I started to shake and tremble.

Isla Mujeres Mysteries

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

A surprise gift!

The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

 

Chapter 3 December 2013

Thomas King of the Beach

A little while later, the woman came to check on me. She leaned over and looked under the sofa. “Are you okay, Sparky?”

I grinned and fluttered the tip of my tail.

“Well, we need to find some medication for those ticks and fleas. Doggies and kitties can get very sick from bug bites,” she straightened up. “I’ll be back soon.”

A short time later, the lady returned, holding a small box. “Let’s see if you’ll eat this.” She opened the box and placed a dark, round object in front of my nose.

I sniffed it suspiciously and turned my head away. No. Not going to eat that thing, I thought. Too many of my hungry friends had gobbled up bad things and gotten sick.

“Hmm. Okay, let’s try something else.” She picked up the brown object and walked back into the house.

Soon she returned with another plate with just a bit of food. I was still full, but after living on my own for a while, I wasn’t going to turn down an offer of delicious chow. If I refused to eat, this might be the last meal she’d offer me.

I ate everything, and I was so full I burped. I didn’t yet know how to say "perdóneme," excuse me, in her language, so I lay back down for another siesta. Pretty soon, I could feel the nasty biting bugs letting go and dropping off my skin. It was a miracle.

When I woke up a little later, the grey cat strolled over to me. He was exactly my size and had big muscles like me. His long, thick fur made him look massive. His fierce yellow eyes studied me carefully.

“I know you have been coming into my house while your friend was looking after Chica and me for three weeks,” he said, staring at me with those enormous eyes. “I never properly introduced myself because I thought you would move on when my humans returned. My full name is Thomas the Cat, but you may call me Tommy.”

“Mucho gusto, Tómas,” I politely replied in Spanish, telling him I was pleased to meet him.

“As the oldest animal in this house, my humans asked my permission to adopt you,” he added, arching an eyebrow meaningfully at me. “I said yes, as long as you are well-behaved.”

“Gracias, Tómas,” I thanked him. “I promise, I’ll be good.”

“You’re welcome to live here as long as you don’t hurt or chase either Princess Chica or me.” He stretched out one of his massive front paws and flexed his toes so that I could see his very long and sharp claws.

Wow! Scary!

“These are my murder-mittens. If you try to hurt us, I will scrape them across your tender nose,” he said.

“I won’t bother you,” I truthfully promised.

“Good,” Tommy nodded and said, “then we can be friends.” He flicked his tail and jumped lightly onto the sofa cushions. “When you’re clean, our humans will let you sleep on the furniture, too.”

“Should I clean my fur in the ocean?” I asked. “I really want these people to like me.”

“No, just wait. The lady will bathe you, don’t get upset. It won’t hurt.” Tommy said. He settled into what looked like a nice, comfy position, put his head down on his front paws, then closed his eyes.

“Does she wash you when you get dirty?” I asked.

Tommy opened one eye and glared at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. Cats are self-cleaning. We lick our fur and keep ourselves very tidy.”

I tried to turn and lick my spine like a cat, but my body wouldn’t twist all the way around. “I wish I could be self-cleaning, too,” I muttered quietly, trying hard not to bother Tommy again.

Without opening his eyes, he said, “She'll take you to the cat-doctor soon.”

“The cat-doctor! What’s that?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

I’m pretty sure he was smirking when he fell asleep.

~

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The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Gotcha Day!

 

Chapter 2: December 2013

That smells so good!

A few weeks later, I was exploring the beach, looking for something to put in my tummy. I caught the delicious scent of chicken cooking, and I followed my nose. The smell took me back to the nice white house on the beach and toward the kind man.

I was about to step inside the house when I noticed that a woman with short, curly hair was preparing the food. She wasn’t the friend who had been feeding me.

I was a little afraid, but I was so very hungry I had to take the risk. I lay down on a mat under the kitchen table and politely waited for the new woman to notice me. Please don’t chase me away.

The woman finally saw me and made a funny noise, “Hmph!” She pointed at the smaller cat and said, “Well, that’s Chica,” then pointed at the larger one. “This is Thomas, and who are you?” tilting her head like a puzzled dog.

I swished my short, bristly tail back and forth on the tile floor. I tried to answer her, “guau-guau, jau-jau.” It roughly translates to “woof-woof, ruff-ruff,” but she didn’t understand.

She laughed and picked up a square black object from the kitchen counter, then started talking to it. “So. A dog?”

I could hear the man’s happy voice coming from the black thing, “Yeah, his name is Sparky, and he’s yours. I’m returning to Japan, and I can’t take him with me.”

Chuckling at the man's words, she put the device back on the kitchen counter. She looked over at a bald man who was quietly sitting at the table. “This is Sparky, and he’s now our responsibility.”

Her laughter gave me hope. Maybe she wouldn’t yell at me or shoo me away.

The man leaned back in his chair so that he could see me hiding under the table. He smiled at me and said, “Hola, Sparky, you look hungry. I’m sure we have enough food to feed you, too.”

“Of course, we do,” the curly-haired woman said, with another chuckle.

She took three little white plates from a cupboard. She placed one scoop of food on each of two plates and a lot more on the third. I was so happy when she set the larger portion in front of me instead of giving it to the cats. It tasted awesome.

I ate and ate and ate until my tummy bulged, then I carefully scrubbed the plate clean with my tongue. Nearby was a bowl of fresh water, and I lapped up the cool liquid. My belly was full, and I felt so sleepy.

I didn’t want the friendly people to be mad at me for bringing beach sand and creepy crawlies into their home, so I went back outside to the patio. I crawled into a shady spot, under the sofa, where I felt safe.

I snoozed and had a pleasant siesta, a nap. I dreamed about being adopted by these kind people and never worrying again about my next meal or where I could safely sleep. It was a very restful siesta.

Isla Mujeres Mysteries

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

2025 Santa Claus Parade, Penticton BC

 Music, lights, laughter, and candy!

Isla Mujeres Mysteries

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

Sipping our way through the Naramata Bench Winterfest!

Naramata Bench Winterfest 

The Naramata Bench Winterfest webpage urged us to: “Join us for exclusive winery, cidery, distillery and brewery tastings set against a backdrop of dazzling Christmas lights and decorations. Enjoy special events and unique holiday shopping. Warm up by the fire pits, savour seasonal cuisine, and create unforgettable memories in one of British Columbia’s most scenic wine regions.”

I invited two friends, Stacey and Kyla Daman-Willems, to join me. I had intended to be the sober designated driver, but Kyla said she didn’t feel like sampling and would be the DD.

First stop, Deep Roots

We picked a handful of choices from the impressive list of 32 participants: Bench 1775, Blackwood, Chain Reaction, D’Angelo, DiSilva, Daydreamer, Deep Roots, Elephant Island, Evolve, Four Shadows, Foxtrot, Hillside, Howling Bluff, Joie, LaFrenz, Lake Breeze, Laughing Stock, Mocojo, Modesta, Moraine, Origin, Red Rooster, Ruby Blues, Therapy, Three Sisters, Tightrope, Township, Upper Bench, Van Westin, Wesbert, Abandoned Rail Brewing, and Creek & Gully Cider.

The aim was to visit places that we hadn’t experienced before. With so many choices, we decided to limit our tastings to red wine and only 6 or 7 wineries. Otherwise, our taste buds would be overwhelmed, and we’d be inebriated.

Sasha, Deep Roots

Our first stop was Deep Roots on Tillar Road. Deep Roots is a family-owned and operated winery perched on the clay cliffs above Okanagan Lake. 

The family has been farming the land around the winery for over 100 years, spanning four generations. Orchards of cherries, pears, apricots, and apples eventually gave way to grapevines in 1998. 

After many years of selling grapes to other wineries, they dove into winemaking, producing their first vintage in 2012, and opened the tasting room in 2014.

At the tasting room, Sasha was fun and informative. I chose a 2022 Cabernet Franc, and as I turned to go, she suggested that we visit Elephant Island next.

Elephant Island, not just fruit wines!

“Elephant Island?” I said, “But they make tree-fruit wines.”

“Not anymore. They have a tasty selection of grape wines, too,” Sonya replied.

As it turns out, they do! With fun names like Naysayer, I Told You, So, and Think Again. 

The humorous wine labels poke fun at concerned friends who were worried about Miranda and Del Halladay’s change in focus.

Elephant Island. 

Elephant Island Winery launched in 1999. Their sister company, Naramata Cider Co., started in 2017. 

The family’s philosophy is to maintain a healthy diversity in the agricultural landscape. 

All of their wines and ciders are made with low-intervention, living fermentation techniques. 

What fruit they don’t grow is grown by farmers whose methods they respect.

I added a bottle of 2019 Meritage to my collection of tasty Naramata Bench wines.

Where should we go next? 

How about Wesbert on Naramata Road? 

Wesbert Winery

The Joubert family, originally from South Africa, founded Wesbert Winery in 2019 and quickly gained a reputation for warm hospitality. 

It’s a popular stop for cyclists and hikers enjoying the KVR Trail.

My taste buds were already getting a bit confused, so I limited myself to one sample.

Then, we decided to stop at one of the original Naramata Bench wineries, Hillside Estate.

Lawrie and I have connections with Hillside.

The old apricot orchard was purchased in 1979 by Bohumir and Vera Klokocka, who had immigrated to the Okanagan Valley from Czechoslovakia. Even though she had no experience, Vera dreamed of growing grapes and creating good wine. In 1984, she and Bohumir pulled out the orchard and planted 3.5 acres of vineyards. The grapevines thrived in the gravelly soil and warm Okanagan sunshine, and Vera’s dream took shape.

In 1989, Hillside, along with Lang Vineyards and Wild Goose, lobbied the Provincial Government to implement the Farmgate Winery Policy. The new policy allowed small vineyards of five acres or less to not only produce wine but also to sell it directly from their premises.

Lynda and Bohumir bottling 1994

When we moved to Sutherland Road, on the bench, Lawrie and I became friends with the Klokockas. We helped with the harvests and bottling while listening to Czechoslovakian music, drinking wine, and eating great food. Vera sold the winery to a Calgary consortium in 1994, which expanded the property and built the existing structure.

In 1998, we sold our craft brewery, Tin Whistle Brewing Company, and I joined the newly expanded Hillside Estate Winery as the office manager. 

Lawrie, harvesting for icewine. 

In 2004, while I was the manager of the Sandman Hotel, Lawrie became the General Manager at Hillside, overseeing the operation of the winery, vineyards, gift shops, distribution, and bistro.

Back to our Winterfest explorations. At Hillside Estate, I purchased a yummy bottle of Bordeaux-style 2018 Mosaic. I am saving it for my 75^th birthday in February. Stacey and Kyla stocked up too! And we were off to our next stop.

La Frenz Winery has been on the Naramata Bench for a long time. 

In 1999, Jeff and Niva Martin purchased the apple orchard and began clearing the land with the help of their daughters, Elise and Jess. 

La Frenz was one of the few wineries that required an appointment, and we felt pressured, so we never visited.

La Frenz Winery

I was pleasantly surprised to discover a standalone wine shop had been added in 2004, allowing aficionados access to the delicious wines without disturbing the family at home. 

I treated myself to a 2022 Syrah. And Stacey made similar choices for their collection.

We decided to do one more stop before calling it a day. Township 7 was our final stop. 

Kyla, outside Township 7 

I know very little about the history of this winery. The parent company began in 2000 in Langley, and the Penticton location opened in 2004. It has changed hands at least once. I believe it is owned by two major investors.

By this time, my taste buds were well and truly done! I left the tasting to Stacey! Back home, I carefully stored my new treasures. More wine tasting will have to wait for next year’s Naramata Bench Winterfest.

Cheers, Lynda

Death in the Vineyards, Okanagan mystery novels!

Sparky: The true-life story of a Mexi-mutt

 

Chapter 1

All alone in the world: November 2013

Hola, soy Sparky. Hi, I’m Sparky.

I’m a short-legged mutt, born on the island of Isla Mujeres in the Caribbean Sea, near the city of Cancún.

Soy Mexicano. I’m Mexican.

I have curly white and grey fur covering my pink and black polka-dotted skin, and long, dark, silky ears. My front paws are larger than my back ones, and my sense of smell is amazing.

When I was a puppy, I lived with a young man, but he had to move away and told me I couldn’t come with him. He untied me and said I had to find a new place to live. I was miserable. I whined, and howled, and cried until I finally realized he wasn’t coming back. If I wanted to survive, I would have to take care of myself.

On the beach where I lived, many visitors spoke languages other than Spanish, although most of them spoke English. A very nice woman, who spoke a slightly different type of English, was gentle and kind to me. She said her name, and then she repeated it more slowly so that I could understand her.

She encouraged me to come closer, and she offered me food and water. I gulped the food, then timidly ran away. Eventually, I let her touch me. She made soothing sounds while she pulled the big, nasty ticks from my fur and combed out the tangles. It hurt a bit, but it felt good to be free of those awful bugs for a few minutes. Unfortunately, no matter how many times she pulled them out of my fur, more ticks would find me.

I hate ticks!

One day, while she was removing the bugs from inside my ears and the sensitive spots between my toes, her friend asked her, “What should we call this little guy?”

“Do you have a suggestion?” The woman replied as she dunked the nasty ticks into a container of soapy water to make sure they couldn’t come back to bite me again.

“How about Sparky?” he said.

“Sparky?” she tilted her head like I do when questioning something. “Why Sparky?” she asked.

“He looks a little bit like the dog in the movie Michael, and that dog’s name was Sparky.”

I wanted to tell them my real name. My first owner called me Bos because I have a deep bark for a small dog. Bos is the Spanish pronunciation of the word meaning voice, vos. Now I was going to be called Sparky. I hope I remember my new name.

Every day, I visited the place where my new friends were staying, and they offered me food and love. But one day, my wonderful new friend had tears in her eyes as she cuddled me. She told me she had to return to a place called Japan. I didn’t know how far away Japan was. It sounded like it was a long way away. I was miserable because another person I loved was going to leave me.

The man said he wasn’t going away, yet, and we could be buddies for a little longer. Then, in late November, he moved into a white house where two cats lived. One was a small, tortoiseshell female, and the other a huge grey male. I was afraid of the cats, especially the male. I had seen him chase larger dogs away from his house.

“It’s okay, Sparky,” my friend said, “I’m looking after the cats for three weeks, and you can visit me. They won’t hurt you.”

Making sure I had an escape route, I cautiously stepped through the open kitchen door. The cats ignored me. They just flicked their tails and strutted away. 

to be continued...

Sparky's mystery novels by Lynda L Lock

Watch cat versus cat burglar! 2008, our first year living in Mexico!

Our first experience living on Isla Mujeres was for a four-month stint in the winter of 2007, going into March 2008.  We still had plans at that time to continue working and living part-time in Canada, plus part-time in Mexico, but that’s another story. 

Our Maine Coon cat, Tom Thumb, also known as Tommy, was 9 years old that winter. He was in the habit of sleeping on our king-sized bed, stretched horizontally to his full 32-inch tip-of-the-nose-to-tip-of-his-tail length. He is a big cat. Even with a concrete base for the bed, I can tell when he leaves for a hit of cat crunchies, or a drink of water, or maybe to use the sandbox box, so I wasn’t particularly bothered when, around four in the morning, he bounced off the bed and disappeared.

About 10 minutes later, I decided I needed to get up as well. On my way to the bathroom, I noticed Tommy was on the floor staring at the bedroom patio door, so I casually reached over, slid the door closed and flicked on the lock. Back in bed, I expected the cat to continue sleeping with us until at least the sun was up.  After a couple of more minutes, I sat up in bed, looking for Tommy, and noticed he was still staring at the patio door. That’s when I actually noticed what he was staring at. A person!  A person dressed in dark clothing crouched on his hands and knees, trying to slide the bedroom patio door open!  Shit, that’s annoying!

I jumped out of bed and started hammering on the glass, screaming. ‘Get out of here! Get out of here!’  

Lawrie, who was sound asleep at the time, leapt straight out of bed, waving his arms over his head and growling. Somehow, he knew the situation called for being big and noisy. Tommy ran for the bathroom and had a bit of an accident as he slid around the corner, spraying cat pee everywhere. The cat burglar wisely decided that we were all nuts and he dove off the second-floor balcony to escape the madhouse, leaving his sandals behind in his haste.

Wide awake and pumped with adrenaline, we grabbed the flashlights and searched outside the house. We could see were face and hand imprints on the outside of the glass patio doors, where he had attempted to see if we had anything worth stealing on the lower level. Since we don’t own a TV, there was nothing of interest to him. He then climbed up the half-wall between our neighbours and us, and pulled himself over the deck railing to gain access to our bedroom level. 

Laughing with relief, we headed back into the house to make a pot of coffee and wait for the sun to come up. There was absolutely no way any of us, Lawrie, Tommy, or I would be sleeping anymore that night.

In the end, all that happened was we tightened up our security a bit with metal poles to slot into the patio door frames at night to allow air circulation, but not enough space to allow a burglar inside. And we added a motion detector onto our upper patio, which we activated at night.

Tommy, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck for months after. Anytime we went to bed, even for an afternoon nap, he perched on the foot of the bed, facing the door, not sleeping!  We slept better knowing he was on guard.

Hasta luego, Lawrie, Lynda, and Tommy

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The Adventures of Thomas and Sparky