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!

Available on Amazon, Indigo Books, Coles Books, and public libraries

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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