The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mysteries: Chapter 12

 

Chapter 12

I’m going to be famous!

“I’m bored,” said Servant.

Driver, Servant, Tommy, Chica, and I are all snuggled on the big sofa on our house's top deck. We are watching a beautiful full moon rise out of the ocean.

“Do you want to do something different tonight?” asked Driver.

I hope Servant doesn’t want to go out with their friends, because this is my favourite time of day. It’s when everyone cuddles together in a heap of love. If it is raining, we stay inside and snuggle on the downstairs sofa, but it’s not as much fun as being up here on the upper deck, where we can see the ocean and the moon.

“No, I mean, I’m bored with being retired,” Servant explained.

“What does retired mean?” I asked Tommy, but he ignored me. He was busy self-cleaning in preparation for another nap. This cat naps a lot!

“Okay, so what do you want to do?” asked Driver.

“I’m going to write a mystery novel about Isla Mujeres and the pirates that visited the island.”

“What a good idea,” said Driver.

I tilt my head. “Woof?” I ask, but no one replies.

“Do you have an idea for a plot?” Driver asked Servant.

What the heck is a plot? I look at Servant. This conversation is confusing.

“No, not yet,” she said, ignoring me and speaking to Driver, "but I’ll think of something.” She picked up their glasses and said, “I’ll be right back. I’ll get us another glass of wine.”

Driver wore a funny little smile as he waited for Servant to return.

Ten minutes later, she handed him a glass, and Driver said, “I have an idea for the title of your book. Treasure Isla. It could be about two women, one Canadian and one Mexican, who search for the treasure that pirate Mundaca supposedly buried on our island.”

Servant laughed, “I was only gone a few minutes, and you have already come up with an idea?”

“Yep, and you can add Sparky into the story as a homeless doggie that the Canadian woman adopts,” he added with a grin.

Hearing my name, I agreed, wagging my tail happily.

“Yes, Sparky, I’ll include you in the book,” Servant said, “after all, Chica and Tommy have a children’s book written about them: The Adventures of Thomas the Cat / Las Aventuras de Tomás el Gato. It’s your turn to be famous.”

The next morning, Servant started writing my first mystery novel. Yep, mine. Not Tommy’s. Not Chica’s. Mine. And a few months later, on the 3^rd anniversary of my Gotcha Day, she showed me a printed copy of my book: Treasure Isla, Book #1 of the Isla Mujeres Mysteries. 

I’m a famous doggo!

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The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mysteries: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I’m a hero!

“I’m going rollerblading,” Servant said to Driver. She carried a pair of boots with a row of wheels attached to the bottom, thick gloves, a hard thing like the motor-scooter drivers wear on their heads, and a broom.

“What’s the broom for?” Driver asked.

Good question. Why did she need a broom? I wondered.

“For sweeping the concrete pad at the park,” she replied. “The little kids like to toss pebbles onto the concrete. If my blades hit the stones, I might trip.”

“Okay, have a good time,” he said.

Wagging my tail excitedly, I waited for her to clip my leash to my harness and take me along. I had no clue what rollerblading was, but I wanted to go with her.

“No, Sparky, you have to stay home and look after the house,” she said.

I tucked my tail and slunk into my hiding place under the sofa. When she said those words, I knew I must stay home with the cats.

Servant bent over and looked under the sofa. “Don’t worry, Sparky, we’ll go for a golf cart ride later.”

I gave her my sad-eyed-don’t-leave-me look, but she just smiled at me and closed the door.

A short time later, I heard a horrible shrieking noise coming from somewhere down the street. Oh no! I think Servant is hurt. I raced around the living room, looking for an exit. All the doors were tightly closed. I jumped onto the kitchen table and slammed my broad shoulders through a partially open window. It hurt! A lot! But I had to save my friend, Servant.

“Sparky! Stop!” Driver shouted at me.

I didn’t stop. I dashed outside and listened. There. More screams. Oh no, I hope I can save her. I ran south towards the little park where I sometimes chase crabs and swim in the ocean.

I ran and ran, over the sharp rocks. Over the large boulders. Over the sand, and through the prickly bushes. Suddenly, the screaming stopped.

Panting and frightened, I raced into the park searching frantically for my human.

Then I heard Servant’s laughter coming from the street.

“She’s so cute. But my goodness, she’s noisy,” Servant said. She was standing beside a man and his daughter. They were all looking down at an ugly pink dog.

It was pale pink, hairless, and made snorting sounds like those dogs with smushed faces. It had two toes on each foot that looked dangerously sharp. The man bent over and lifted the weird dog into his arms, and it started to scream again. “She doesn’t like to be picked up. But she’s still too little to jump into the car on her own.”

Servant noticed me. “Sparky, what are you doing here?” She patted her thigh to call me to her, but I stayed back. My feet were planted. My sharp fangs were ready to use. I was prepared to spring into action if that pink dog attacked Servant.

“Oh, good, he’s here,” said Driver as he parked the golf cart beside us. “When the screaming started, Sparky jumped on the table and barged his way through the window. The one that we leave locked open, just wide enough for the cats to come and go. It was a very tight fit for Sparky!”

The man stuffed his weird little dog inside his car, and the shrieks stopped. “I’m sorry about the awful noise,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s no problem,” Servant said, then bent down and called me to her. “Sparky baby, did you bruise your shoulders when you forced your way out of the window?”

“Guau-guau, jau-jau,” I answered. I was sore, but very relieved that she was okay.

“You are my hero! You saved me from the piglet,” she replied with a wide grin.

Her hero! I felt proud. That piglet must be a very dangerous animal. It certainly sounded dangerous.

Driver and Servant waved goodbye to the man, and we headed back home in our golf cart. A little later, we had lunch at Ballyhoo Restaurante in Centro, to celebrate.

Servant said we were celebrating me being her hero!

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The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mysteries: Chapter 10

 Chapter 10

Not your average beach dog

“It’s cleaning day,” Servant announced, and a loud whooshing noise filled the bedroom.

I ran over and flopped belly up by her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

Gimme some of that.

“You’re an odd pup, Sparky. Tommy and Chica ran outside when I turned it on,” she said, shaking her head, “and here you are begging to be vacuumed.”

I grinned and blissfully lay there while she ran that noisy thing over my body, sucking up the dirt and sand that was clinging to my skin.

Servant says I have a lot of idiosyncrasies. I prefer to call them interesting characteristics.

I also love her hair dryer. Whenever Servant turns it on, poof, I’m right there, waiting for my turn. It makes her laugh. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to these noisy appliances. My previous home didn’t even have electricity, so I’m not accustomed to a hair dryer or a vacuum.

Another interesting habit I have is sneaking up on my water bowl. No matter its shape, location, or material, I approach it slowly and carefully, one cautious step at a time. Once I reach it, I take a drink, then turn around and walk away at a normal pace. 

And answering pee-mail; that’s a fine art. I carefully sniff each message, decide whether I should answer by lifting my left leg or my right leg, apply the correct response, and walk a few steps to read the next message. Servant says I walk at the speed of smell.

 

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SHATTERED — Book #5, Death in the Vineyards

Some dreams are worth fighting for. Some enemies stop at nothing.

Jessica Sanderson and Mike Lyons are planning the perfect summer wedding among the vines at On the Edge Winery. But while they dream of family, friends, and a new life together, a dangerous enemy has his sights set on the winery.

Powerful crime boss Mikhail Volkov believes the coveted Naramata Bench property belongs to him—and legality won’t stand in his way. When threats escalate into violence, the Crawfords, Jessica, Mike, and their four-legged sidekick, Sparky, are caught in a deadly battle for the winery.

Then flames rip through On the Edge, destroying more than buildings and vines. As the smoke clears, loyalties shift, secrets surface, and Jessica and Mike suddenly find themselves under police scrutiny. Even their friendship with RCMP Corporal Caitlin Smith begins to fracture.

With murder, organized crime, romance, and Sparky’s uncanny nose for trouble, SHATTERED is another fast-paced mystery set in British Columbia’s beautiful—and sometimes deadly—Okanagan wine country.

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The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Life is good!

What an exciting day. I played gently with my Christmas gifts because I didn’t want to hurt them. Tommy and Chica raced around the bedroom, shredding the wrapping paper and chasing the pieces blown by the warm tropical wind. Servant and Driver laughed at their silly antics.

Chica batted her catnip mouse and her little foam balls across the room, back and forth, until they got stuck under furniture. She was only five years old and had a lot of energy.

“Never mind, Chica, Servant said. “I’ll get them for you later.”

Tommy discovered canned shrimp and a bag of catnip in his stocking. The catnip made him very playful for a few minutes, and then he fell asleep. Maybe because he is fourteen years old, he gets tired faster.

Later that morning, we had breakfast, played together in the kitchen, and then everyone, including Servant and Driver, took a siesta. Early in the afternoon, I could smell delicious aromas coming from the barbecue in the courtyard. Driver was slowly roasting the turkey for our Christmas dinner. In my previous home, I didn’t know what that smell was or where it was coming from, and it made me drool with hunger. Now I was here, in this house, and I was going to eat some of that delicious meat. What a lucky doggie.

After sundown, the festive lights on our palm trees created a fairyland of light and colour in our yard. Beautiful music drifted through the house, and our people sang about funny things I had never heard of: snowmen, one-horse sleighs, and jingle bells.

A few of Servant and Driver’s friends came over, and we ate a tasty dinner exactly like Chica had described. Turkey is amazing! It was the best meal I had ever eaten. The humans talked, laughed, clinked their glasses together, and wished each other a Merry Christmas. ¡Feliz Navidad!

I slowly drifted off to sleep, hugging my new stuffed toy. I was grateful, happy, and very sleepy. I thought about all the people and animals who had never known so much love.

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The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Chapter 8

Sparky, my decorated golf cart.

Chapter 8

It’s Christmas!

“¡Feliz Navidad! said Driver.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Servant said, and then she kissed Driver. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

Tucked into the king-sized bed, between our humans, Tommy sleepily opened one eye. Being the most senior animal in the family, he was allowed to sleep in their bed.

Chica stretched and yawned. She liked her cozy little nest on the nightstand beside Servant. She jumped onto the bed to say good morning.

I was curled up in my comfy bed on the floor beside Driver. It was a good place for me to sleep because I could keep an eye on both entrances: the bedroom door and the patio door. As the only dog in the house, it was my job to protect everyone.

Christmas Day. I had forgotten this was the day I had planned to hide outside in the bushes, in case the cats were going to play a trick on me. I quietly slithered towards the entrance, hoping I could zip past when someone opened the bedroom door.

Servant hopped out of bed and opened the patio door. “What a beautiful day, warm and sunny. Just look at that view!” she said, pointing towards the turquoise Caribbean Sea. “I’ll go get our coffees and be right back.”

“Sparky, where are you going?” Driver asked. “Come here, little buddy.” He patted the bed.

I tucked my tail and slunk back towards Driver.

“¡Feliz Navidad, Sparky!” Driver said as he scratched my ears and rubbed my tummy. “We have presents for everyone, including you.”

Presents? For me? I gazed hopefully at his kind face.

Servant returned with a tray holding two cups of coffee and a pile of goodies; some were for our humans, and some were for us. She handed one cup of coffee to Driver, then distributed the treats to everyone.

“Okay, time for presents!” Driver said, pulling several objects out from their hiding place. Two were wide red sacks that were filled with colourfully wrapped items. Two were long and looked like oversized socks, and another was shaped like a large red paw.

Servant held up the fuzzy red paw, “Sparky, it has your name on it!”

For me? Just for me! I carefully took it from her hand and set it on the floor. I grinned happily as my tail swished back and forth. A present. A fuzzy red paw with my name on it.

Tommy looked over the edge of the bed to see what I was doing. “Silly dog, open your gifts,” he said.

“I did. It’s a big red paw.”

“That’s just the container. The gifts are inside.” He reached into his sock and snagged a brightly decorated parcel with his claws. Then he pulled it out and ripped off the paper. “See, this is a bag of cat snacks, and there are more things inside.”

I stuck my nose deep inside the fluffy paw and pulled out a stuffed toy. Oh my, I’d never had a toy. It was beautiful, a black-and-white dog that looked like my younger brother. We hadn’t seen each other since we were puppies, and I hoped he was having a good Christmas too.

Chica said, “Look inside again, Sparky. I think you have another present.”

I put my nose inside again, and yes, there was another toy, a silly yellow cat. This one didn’t have big, sharp claws. Two toys!

I like Christmas.

The Isla Mujeres Mysteries starring Sparky

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The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Chapter 7

 

           Chica and the Christmas tree, un árbol de Navidad

Chapter 7

Learning the rules

“Buen día, Princesa Chica. ¿Cómo está?” I said, “Good day, Princess Chica. How are you?”

“¿Estoy bien, gracias, y tú?” Chica answered me in cat-Spanish, and I understood. She had said she was doing well, thank you, and then asked how I was.

I was so pleased I couldn’t stop my tail from doing its helicopter-spin of happiness. “I’m very well, thank you,” I replied, and then I noticed she was sitting beside a little tree covered in cute decorations.

“Oh, that’s a good idea, an indoor bathroom for pets,” I said. “But why is it sitting on a table? It should be on the floor.”

“No!” Chica quickly said. “This is our Christmas tree, un árbol de Navidad. Our humans would be upset if you peed on it.”

“Really?” I put my front paws on the wooden table and gave the tree a sniff. It didn’t smell anything like a real tree. “What’s a Christmas tree?” I asked.

“It is part of the decorations our humans display at this time of the year.”

“So, Servant and Driver are also Decorators? Do we call them Decorator One and Decorator Two?” The rules of my new home were very puzzling. And why shouldn’t I pee on the tree? That’s what trees were for.

“No,” Chica answered, “she’s always Servant, and he’s always Driver. Tommy says we don’t want to confuse them.”

“Si, now I remember. He told me that humans are difficult to train.” I agreed.

“Sí, very difficult,” she agreed. “Tommy is smart, and you should always listen to his advice.”

“I will,” I said, carefully studying the fancy tree. I still didn’t understand why I couldn’t use it for my indoor bathroom.

“We are extra lucky because we were born in Mexico and there are many winter celebrations, not just Christmas,” Chica said. “The holiday season starts with December 12th, Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe, the Virgin of Guadalupe Day. Then, December 16^th to the 24^th is the Posadas, a procession that recreates the journey of Mary and Joseph, and December 24^th, Nochebuena or Christmas Eve, is when Mexican families have their special feasts. Our people and many of their friends are called Gringos, and they have their feast on December 25^th.”

“Is that when the people create loud noises? Lots of booms and bangs?”

“Yes, fireworks scare me,” Chica answered.

“I usually just hide under something and try to sleep,” I said.

“Me too!” Chica said. “The best part of the holiday season is that our people like to invite their friends and some of their cat-friendly dogs to a party at our house. They laugh, play music, sing, and eat lots of yummy foods.”

“I don’t think my first human had a lot of money. We never had a party,” I said wistfully. “Parties sound like a lot of fun.”

“Si,” she agreed, “and our humans also go to our friends’ houses to celebrate.”

“Do you get invited too?” I asked.

“Tommy and I are invited to the parties that are close by,” she said. “We follow Servant and Driver along the beach.”

“What else do you do to celebrate?” I asked.

“My goodness, you ask a lot of silly questions!” Chica flicked her tail and glared at me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand everything about my new life yet.” I said, “Please be patient with me.”

She sighed, “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. We were all strays at one time.” She licked one paw and cleaned her whiskers.

I was fascinated. She knew how to self-clean just like Tommy. Maybe she could teach me, but not right now, because she was still talking about the holidays.

“And there are parades with funny costumes,” she said, “and music, and people tossing candy for the children and their parents. Many people go to a building called a church and sing nice songs,” she added. “It’s a busy time on the island, but we enjoy the excitement. My favourite day is Christmas Day. We get presents in the morning, then we eat turkey and sweet potatoes at dinner time.”

“Turkey? What’s that?” I asked.

“Turkey is awesome! It’s a huge bird that is roasted for hours, and then we feast on it. Servant, Driver, Tommy, me, and of course you this year. We eat and eat, and then fall asleep.” Just thinking about the upcoming feast made Chica feel sleepy. She stretched and yawned, “The celebration continues until January 6^th, Día de Reyes, when the Mexican children receive their presents from the three kings.”

“Presents? What are presents?”

“Presents are my favourite,” she replied with a sly grin. “You’ll see.”

Oh no, I don’t like it when a cat gives me a sneaky smile. I am pretty sure it means something bad for me, like another visit to the cat-doctor.

Maybe I should just hide outside in the bushes on Christmas Day.

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

 

Chapter 6

Home!

“Oh, you’re back,” Tommy said. He stood up, arched his back, and stretched out his front feet. “Did you enjoy your visit to the cat-doctor?”

My bushy eyebrows shot upwards, “It was awful,” I replied. “The only good thing is these nice people came back for me.”

“Yes, we’re lucky, we have people who love us,” Tommy said.

“What do I call our humans?”

“They have people names, however,” Tommy replied with a bored sigh, “I call the woman Servant and the man Driver.”

“Why did you pick those names?” I asked.

“Because when I first met our humans, that’s how I thought of them. They swap jobs frequently. Sometimes Servant is the driver, and Driver is the servant, but I don’t change their titles.”

“Should I do the same?” I asked.

“Yes. Humans aren’t very smart,” he answered. “It took me fourteen years to properly train them.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” I said. I was not quite two years old in people years; that’s around twenty years old in doggie years. Tommy had already lived fourteen people-years, and that made him an expert.

Eager to learn more from Tommy’s experiences, I carefully studied his actions. He licked his right front paw with his long, rough tongue and wiped the damp paw across his right ear, then repeated the process.

“Are you self-cleaning now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, then switched to cleaning himself with his left paw, “it’s called grooming.”

“Could teach me how to do grooming?”

“No, I’m sorry. Cats groom. Dogs get bathed by their humans. That’s how it works.”

“Oh,” I was disappointed. I wanted to be self-cleaning too, like a cat. Then I thought of the many cats still at the clinic. “Do all the animals at the cat-doctor’s place have people?”

Tommy yawned widely, displaying his tongue, sharp white fangs, and pointy teeth. “No, most of the cats are looking for humans to adopt them,” he answered.

“What about the doggies?”

“Some have owners, some are strays,” he said.

I watched in fascination as he stretched his front paws forward, then bowed his head, and arched his back. It seemed to relax him.

“I wish every doggie and kitty had nice people like we do,” I said.

“Me, too, but the cat-doctor and his staff make sure the animals under his care get food, medications, and a safe place to sleep,” Tommy said. “Princess Chica and I were both homeless before we adopted our humans.”

“Oh! ¿Hablas español? Do you speak Spanish?” I hopefully asked. It would be wonderful to be able to communicate in my language.

“No,” Tommy shook his head, “I’m Canadian. Our humans found me in a vineyard in Canada when I was a tiny kitten. I was so small I could fit in the palm of Servant’s hand.”

“You’re lucky,” I said, then scrunched up my face as I thought about what he had said. “How did you get to Mexico?”

“My people didn’t like the cold Canadian winters, so we moved here when I was nine.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said. “I’ve heard that some of my doggie friends have been adopted to homes in Canada.” I shivered at the thought. “I’m sure they don’t like the cold.”

“It’s not cold all the time in Canada, only part of the year. Plus, their people dress them in warm sweaters and jackets, and in time they adjust to the colder weather,” Tommy said. “It’s no different than me with my thick fur moving from Canada to the hotter weather here in Mexico.”

“True,” I agreed, then I thought of something else I wanted to ask. “Is Princess Chica a Mexicana?”

“Yes, she entered our house from the beach. Just like you.”

“Does she speak Spanish?”

“A little, she was very young when she moved in with us, and she has forgotten most of her original language. She still speaks a bit of cat-Spanish. She says it’s different from dog-Spanish.” Tommy said with a shrug. “I don’t understand the difference.”

I thought about that for a bit, then said, “Mexican Spanish is a bit different from the words that people use in other countries, so Chica’s cat-Spanish may be a little different, but it would still be understandable.” I felt quite proud that I could explain something to a much older and wiser cat.

Tommy slowly turned his head and studied me for a moment, “Probably,” he finally agreed. He jumped off the sofa and wandered into the house. He didn’t seem impressed by my knowledge.

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

Chapter 5

I thought they liked me!

They left me! I thought they liked me, then they left me at the cat-doctor’s place. I cowered inside a metal cage listening to the howls and whines of the other animals. I put my paws over my ears to shut out the noise.

What had I done wrong? I tried to be a good doggie. I hadn’t done my business inside the house. I hadn’t chased the cats. I didn’t leave a mess when I ate. I was tidy when I drank water. When I was still covered with bugs and dirt, I napped outside.

What did I do wrong?

I thought I had found a new home, and now here I was trapped in a crate. There were so many other unhappy animals in cages that I howled with uncertainty and fear.

“Shh. Sparky, it will be okay,” a pretty young woman with dark hair and kind brown eyes said to me in a soothing voice. “Easy, baby, we’re going to help you.”

I stopped my howling, but I was still quivering. She was speaking Spanish, and I understood her, except I didn’t believe a word she said. It had to be a trick to make me calm down.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said, lifting me out of the cage. “We have a couple of minor procedures and a few tests to do.”

Procedures? Tests? That didn’t sound good.

But then she held me while the evil cat-doctor stuck something sharp in my neck. I suddenly felt extremely sleepy. I struggled to stay awake, but it was useless. My eyes closed, my body went limp, and I sagged into the assistant’s arms.

“What a good boy,” was the last thing I heard.

A little bit later, when I woke up, I was back in the awful crate. I was stiff and sore, and very thirsty.

“Oh, good, you are awake. I’ll take you to your people,” the same young woman said.

People? I have people? I must be dreaming.

She gently lifted me out of the crate, carried me to another room, and placed me on a tall metal table. Inside the room, the people who brought me here were talking nicely to that cat-doctor.

I tucked my short tail under my bum and crouched low.

The curly-haired woman gently stroked my head and smiled into my eyes. “It’s okay, Sparky, you’re safe,” she said.

“He’s in good health,” the cat-doctor said. “He’s been neutered and checked for heart problems or other diseases. He’s been given vaccinations against both rabies and distemper. We also cleaned his teeth, trimmed his nails, and groomed his fur,” the cat-doctor said with a wide smile.

The curly-haired woman asked the cat-doctor. “What type of mix do you think he is?”

The cat-doctor smiled, “You know this is an island, and the pet genetics go around and around. His ancestors could be anything from a Great Dane to a Chihuahua.”

The woman laughed, “I think he is a pure-bred Mexican low-rider,” she said, motioning to my short legs.

“Exactly, and now he’s ready to go home,” the cat-doctor said.

Home?

Maybe this cat-doctor wasn’t as mean as I thought. He just said these nice people could take me home. I couldn’t help myself, my butt started to wiggle, and I stood up on my back legs to give him a quick little lick on his face.

“I’m so glad he’s okay,” the man said. “We’ve already been shopping and bought him food, a collar, a harness and leash, and a comfy bed.”

The cat-doctor said, “You’re going to have a great life, Sparky.”

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